


Hopes don't die last

by StarsMadeinHeaven



Category: South Park
Genre: Adults, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character Study, Cult of Cthulhu, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 58,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15454086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsMadeinHeaven/pseuds/StarsMadeinHeaven
Summary: When his curse indirectly causes the death of somebody close to him, Kenny McCormick has all but given up on hope that things will ever change.Then Kyle Broflovski storms back into his life again.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the prologue, and if people are interested I will try to update at a regular pace.  
> I apologize in advance for all the angst. I was thinking about Kenny's curse recently, and there were some things that made me wonder. This fic wants to tackle some of those issues I came up with. As always, comments and constructive criticism is always welcome!

The car is driving slowly over the asphalt. Kenny knows they are going faster than what it looks like. In his mind they are going at cruise speed. 

But in truth, they weren’t. 

The tires roll lazily under him. He is the one driving. He is laughing; his eyes are not on the road. The landscape pass slowly by, a green mass of trees is stretching its branches towards the rolled down car windows. An ochre, wrinkled finger is pointing at the road, passes by fast, another takes its place, but Kenny isn’t listening. A cold draft is coming in and gently caresses their faces. The sun is setting on the horizon, casting orange and violet shadows on the clouds above them. The man sitting in the passenger’s seat is hanging his hand out of the window, playing with the airflow. Kenny can’t hear him, but he knows he is talking about stars. There’s a small soft smile on his usually expressionless face. His blue eyes are full of life, he’s amused by Kenny’s antics, that’s much is obvious. 

Everything moves in slow motion, so that Kenny can capture each detail in its perfection. 

And suddenly everything stills. 

Kenny feels his soul leave his body. It happened so many times he is not surprised anymore. The car stops. A bird soars over them with its wings stretched out. Or maybe it’s a bat. Kenny doesn’t look up to check. His eyes are fixed on the road. There’s a truck right in front of them and another car moving fast behind them. He knows that now, but he hadn’t paid attention when the accident happened. He gets out of the car. He doesn’t even need to push the door open. His body remains behind. He takes a step back, studies the way his own fingers are wrapped around the steering wheel. His lips are stretched up in a smile that reaches up to his ears; his blond hair is blowing in the wind. Kenny doesn’t care what he had looked like. He walks around the car instead. Reaches for the passenger’s door, but his hand just waves through it. Craig’s arm is unreachable. He’s facing away, towards Kenny’s body. From outside the car, Kenny can only see the line of Craig’s jaw. There is a trickle of sweat rolling down the other’s temple. It never reaches Craig’s cheek. 

And the car moves again. Kenny has dreamed about it so many times he knows what to expect. The car speeds up; there are going sixty miles per hour. The car behind them is going much faster and it pushes them against the truck and off the side. He can see his body propelled abruptly forwards. The blood seeps through the cracks in the windows. His skull is broken. He died on the spot. The trees smacked into Craig’s car and leave a dent behind. He knows because he has read the report. Craig’s hand hangs limply to the side. Kenny knows because he has seen the pictures. The only difference is that Craig is sitting in the driver’s seat, while Kenny knows that that wasn’t the truth.

He was dead at the time, so he doesn’t know what happens next. His dream just ends there. 

When he opens his eyes, he’s in the small rat hole he calls his apartment. Outside the traffic is heavy, loud. It’s time to get up and go to work, but Kenny doesn’t want to. He just pulls up his tattered blankets over his head and goes back to sleep.

There is a car. 

His hands are on the steering wheel. 

Craig is alive besides him. 

* * *

His power is a curse. 

It’s not going to be the last time he dies, but it’s the first time he outlives someone. He died with Craig. He woke up without him. No one knows he had been the one driving, that he was present at the time of the accident. His body had disappeared, as it always does. Some force moves him around, takes him back to his old bed, shifts time and space so that there’s no evidence of Kenny’s existence. Craig is teleported in Kenny’s place. The police report states clearly that he had been the one driving. The truck pulled over, there was something wrong with the brakes, a mushy pedal maybe. Craig was not paying attention to the road. It was dark, he got distracted, no one knows. The driver behind him was drunk and just kept putting his foot down on the gas. A series of unfortunate events. 

Does it matter that Kenny knows the number engraved on the truck’s license plate? No. Does it matter he knows what Craig was wearing at the time? No. Does it matter he knows what kind of car the drunk driver had? No. Because it’s information he could have got through the newspaper and the police reports. 

The morning after the accident a nice police officer called him. He needed to identify Craig’s body. Kenny didn’t want to go but he did. He regretted it immediately after. He was supposed to lie on the mortuary table next to Craig’s but there’s a stranger in his place. Kenny is unscathed. 

Craig’s eyes are closed, and he almost looks peaceful. He’s stiff, cool and pale, and Kenny doesn’t find him as gorgeous as he had been when he was still alive. The blood has been cleaned, the sheets cover the wounds on Craig’s torso. His lips are blue. It was his favorite color. 

It’s been six months and still Kenny wishes he had been the one lying on that cold table. 

No matter how much he tries, Kenny can’t die. It’s one thing to tell this to his friends in fourth grade. Back then he wanted someone to mourn him, to pay attention to him. He wanted people to understand how much it hurts to die. It’s another thing to tell people that being alive hurts much more when you are an adult. He can’t stand the pity. How many other deaths will Kenny go through? How many will die before him? Is he going to outlive everyone? Does this curse ever end? 

Kenny is fed up with it all. 

It’s one of the reasons why he left South Park. Craig had found him by accident, but Kenny will never let somebody else in. If all he touches is destined to die, then it would be better if he stays away. 

The automatic bell above the front door of the coffee shop he is working at rings. 


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so the comments! I'm glad to see people are interested in this. Here's the first chapter. Comments are highly appreciated, as always. Enjoy!

* * *

Kenny’s breath catches in his throat. His hand stops mid-air. The cup he’s holding shakes uncontrollably. The bald, slightly oversized man reaches out for his order, and Kenny almost leaps back in surprise when his cold fingers touch his. He momentarily forgets he is supposed to be working. His eyes keep flickering towards the redhead who has just gotten in line to take his order. 

“You can let go now,” the bald man says, worried, “I’ve got this.” 

“Yeah,” Kenny says and smiles widely at his customer. “Thank you!” he exclaims, maybe a little bit over-enthusiastic. The man casts him another concerned look before he finally leaves, and his co-worker eyes him worriedly too. 

Kenny wills himself to move. Do something. Hide. _Anything_. But his feet are rooted to the floor; his body doesn’t want to collaborate with his mind. Kenny’s eyes shift towards Kyle Broflovski again. There’s no way he’s mistaken. He’s getting closer, and Kenny recognizes the shape of Kyle’s nose, his frown, that me-against-the-world aura that’s so characteristically _his_. 

Kenny would recognize that mass of red hair anywhere. It has been four years since they last saw each other but Kyle Broflovski looks the same, acts the same, moves the same. Kenny resents him for it, actually. His past pops out of nowhere, and Kenny is stuck in the present with nowhere to go. He wants to go back as well, but all he can do is move forwards and-! 

Kenny needs to leave. 

“I need to leave,” Kenny mutters and starts fiddling with his apron. His co-worker stupidly blinks at him and wraps his fingers around Kenny’s hand as he tries to rip his nametag off. 

“Woah!” his friend says. Kenny doesn’t remember his name. In that moment there’s only Kyle in his mind, getting closer. “What’s gotten into you, pal?” the other says, and Kenny finally realizes he’s shaking all over. At this point his only way out is to die from cardiac arrest. 

Too late. Kyle is now standing in front of them. 

“Kenny?” 

The lump in his throat makes it difficult to breath. He slowly turns to face his next customer head on and his eyes meet fiery green. Kyle fixes his gaze on him. His bottom lip quivers slightly and a hopeful look flashes across Kyle’s face, so fast Kenny has trouble deciphering it. 

Kenny can’t stand seeing him so happy. 

“Kenny!” Kyle exclaims, and if it weren’t for the counter separating them, Kenny knows Kyle would have thrown his arms around his shoulders. But yet again, this was Kyle they were talking about, and his joy lasts but a moment. Indeed, his wide grin falls into a frown not a second later. 

“Kenny!” Kyle calls him again, his tone turning reproachful. 

“Hi, Kyle,” Kenny says, tugs the corner of his lips upwards like he usually does when he sees a particularly hot woman. The flirty tone is completely lost on Kyle. 

“Do you have the freakiest idea how worried we were, you donkey fucker?” Kyle cries. “Disappearing like this. Stan and I were worried sick. And Cartman too, although he’s too much of a dickhead to outright say it. We asked your parents and-!” 

“Sir,” Benjamin interrupts him. Oh, yes, Kenny thinks. His co-worker’s name is Benjamin. “Shall I take your order?” 

“Yeah,” a teenager waiting in line after Kyle pipes in. “I don’t mean to interfere in your lover quarrel, but there’s, like a line here? And this is a coffee shop? It’s not like we came here for the pictures on the wall, did we?” 

Kyle’s head snaps to the young woman behind him and he looks ready to kick her teeth right in when Benjamin decides to intervene again. 

“I’m sorry, madam, I’ll take your order,” Benjamin says and leans towards Kenny to whisper in his ear: “I see you have issues here, so just take a break and go sort it out? I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.” 

Kenny wants to protests, but Benjamin is adamant. He gently pushes Kenny away and turns his attention back to the teenager waiting in line. Kyle is fuming but he keeps his mouth shut and looks at Kenny as if he wants answers and is not going to leave until he gets them. Kenny sighs. 

“Okay,” Kenny mutters. He walks around the counter in a way that hopefully appears confident and comes to stand next to Kyle. “Do you want to drink anything?” Kenny asks, stalls. 

“How long have you’ve been working here?” Kyle asks instead. Typical of him to answer a question with another question. Kenny is not in the mood to play this game. 

“No then,” Kenny mumbles. Kyle arches an eyebrow, and Kenny tries his best to look natural. He smiles widely at him and slides an arm around his shoulders, but Kyle shrugs him off. “There’s an empty booth right there.” 

“Yes, let’s sit,” Kyle agrees and marches forwards. Kenny sighs again and follows him, shooting a glance behind his back to Benjamin, who is now serving customers all on his own. 

“So,” Kyle says when Kenny slides into his seat. 

“So,” Kenny repeats, raises his eyebrows and intertwines his fingers in front of him. It’s awkward, to say the least. Nevertheless, he knows the prolonged silence is not going to put Kyle off and he has to act fast before his old friend starts pestering him with questions. 

“What’s a gorgeous guy like you doing in an ugly city like this?” Kenny asks. 

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Kyle quickly replies and blushes slightly at the slip of the tongue. “I mean,” he starts again, shooting Kenny a murderous look when the blond snickers. “I’m glad to see you are doing well.” 

“I’m not struggling to make ends meet, so I guess I’m doing great,” Kenny remarks. Kyle studies him through half-lidded eyes, and Kenny feels like he is getting the third degree. “What about you?” he asks, although he’s not really interested. He wants to go back to work. Do something else than having someone from South Park read right through him. 

“I’m a law student,” Kyle says, “obviously,” he adds, a bitter tone seeping through his words. 

“Here?” Kenny asks, taken completely aback, but Kyle shakes his head no. 

“I’m here for a project,” Kyle confesses. Kenny’s forehead creases in puzzlement, so Kyle continues: “I need to study some legal cases against a transport company. It recently went out of business, but it was well known here. The NS Express Inc. ” 

“Oh,” Kenny says, for lack of something better to say. His breath quickens, and he immediately puts a hand in front of his mouth, as if to cover his sudden uneasiness. Kenny will never forget that name. The truck Craig and Kenny crashed into belonged to the NS Express Inc.

“All documents I need are here in the city,” Kyle explains, apparently unaware of Kenny’s sudden change in mood. 

“That’s so boring,” Kenny says instead, tries to play it cool. Kyle chuckles, and Kenny calms down at the familiar sound. 

“I know, but I have to do this,” Kyle says. Kenny looks up and their eyes meet. He wants to ask why but he’s afraid of the answer. Kyle continues: “One of them is a car accident case involving one of the company’s trucks.” 

“That doesn’t make it less boring,” Kenny jokes. It’s halfhearted. Kyle’s gaze narrows. 

“Have you been in touch with anyone of our gang lately or were you a dickhead to everyone?” Kyle asks. Kenny turns his head and looks out of the window. He wants to be angry at the accusing tone, but he can’t. He’s past the point of caring. 

“I had to leave South Park, Kyle,” Kenny says in the end and he can see the ‘why’ hanging on Kyle’s lip. Ten seconds tick awkwardly by, but then the unexpected happens. Kyle doesn’t push it, and Kenny feels obliged to talk: 

“You’re the first one I see from South Park in four years.” 

Kyle casts his eyes down. He nervously taps his fingers on the table, and Kenny is tempted to reach out and grab his hand. He doesn’t, for obvious reasons. 

“What about Craig Tucker?” Kyle asks, his stare resolute. Kenny congratulates himself for keeping a poker face. 

“No,” Kenny lies. 

Kyle sighs. 

“It’s actually surprising,” Kyle says. “I’ve taken this case because…” he hesitates, and Kenny fears he knows why. “You are right, this project is indeed terribly boring,” Kyle admits and laughs. He’s nervous. “But I’ve taken this case because Craig was involved in the car accident I’ve mentioned to you about. He…” Kyle takes a big breath. “He died half a year ago, Kenny.” 

“Craig, huh,” Kenny breaths. 

“We weren’t really on speaking terms, were we?” Kyle asks. “And I didn’t get to go to the funeral, but the news of his death was devastating all the same. When the NS Express Inc. legal cases fell into my hands, I knew I had to be the one to do this project. Of course, Craig was nothing but collateral damage to them, but I wanted to somehow pay my respects to him by properly handling this case.” 

Kenny doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing. 

“His parents told me he was living here, although I didn’t dare to ask his address. But they mentioned the fact he was working part time in this coffee shop to pay off tuition costs –he was studying astrophysics, by the way- and I wanted to see the place with my own eyes.” 

Kenny doesn’t trust his voice, so he keeps silent. 

“How come you’ve never met each other?” Kyle asks with a curious look on his face. “How long have you been working here?” 

“Just a couple of months,” Kenny lies. 

It’s longer than that. He’s been working at this coffee shop for the past three years. Only his family knew where Kenny was, and when Craig appeared in front of him Kenny suspected that Karen had something to do with it. But no. Craig just happened to study Astrophysics in the city Kenny was hiding in. The first thing Craig told him was that he was an idiot for thinking that the world revolved around him. 

Meeting him has been as awkward as seeing Kyle after four years. And Craig drove Kenny nuts as Kyle did. He was kind of a stickler in his work, a clean freak, proud of himself and simply annoying when he decided he didn’t give a damn. 

What’s more, he understood Kenny. He understood why he had to leave and promised not to tell anyone, because it wasn’t his place to do so. He said he didn’t care what Kenny and his friends did, that they’ve always been assholes and that he wasn’t going to sell him out. But fact is, Craig did care. He was the most caring person Kenny has met in his life. 

“I need to go back to work,” Kenny says, peeking behind his shoulder at Benjamin, who is holding up his wrist and taps on an invisible watch with his finger. Kyle nods his head in understanding. 

“Okay,” Kyle says and Kenny senses the dejected tone in his voice. In that moment Kenny finally realizes how much he has missed him. He doesn’t want to let go of this opportunity. It’s been so long. He’s lonely, maybe.

“Hey, Kyle,” Kenny says as he stands up. “How long are you going to stay in the city?” 

“Just a couple of days,” Kyle replies. 

“Are you staying in a hotel or something?” Kenny asks. 

“Err...” Kyle scratches his head, “I didn’t book a room yet.” 

Kenny laughs. 

“You didn’t book a room yet?” Kenny teases him. “Did you finally stop planning everything out, Kyle?” 

“Shut up, Kenny,” Kyle snaps. “I just left in a hurry.” 

“You can always crash at my place,” Kenny blurts and regrets it immediately after. Kyle looks up at him in shock, but Kenny doesn’t have the guts to take it back. On the contrary, his mouth moves on its own accord: “My shift ends at four.” 

Kyle is confused. 

“Okay,” he says after a long silent moment. “I’ll wait for you outside.” 

Kenny nods and quickly walks back to Benjamin. Kyle sighs, stands up and finally leaves the coffee shop. 

He doesn’t know why he proposed something like that and for the rest of the day he hopes Kyle is not going to take up on his offer. But of course Kyle does. Punctual as a clock, Kyle waits for him in front of his working place, and Kenny has to muster his most nonchalant expression and act as if he’s indeed happy that they finally reunited. 

And he is really not, because it took Kyle four fucking years to find him. Kyle, Stan, and Cartman were supposed to be his friends, but they didn’t try hard enough to see if there was something wrong with him. They just let him go. 

While Craig was _not_ supposed to care. They weren’t best friends in the strictest sense of the word. They were acquaintances. But once Craig found him, he held him close. Kyle will do what he has to do and will just leave. 

Kenny tells himself that over and over again during their ride to his apartment. It’s Kyle’s car, and Kenny slides into the passenger’s seat, glad that he’s not the one driving. 

He is regretting his decision. As they climb up the stairs, Kenny entertains the idea of telling Kyle that it was all but a joke and that he should book a room somewhere, anywhere, just-! Just stay away from me. 

He doesn’t. What he does instead is pushing Kyle into his apartment and showing him his room. Kyle lets his eyes wander over the living room and Kenny finds himself unable to speak. There’s no trace of Craig’s presence anymore, he made sure of that months ago, but he has a bad feeling about this. He shouldn’t have brought Kyle here. He feels vulnerable, pathetic. When he remembers he needs to go grocery shopping, Kenny seizes his opportunity and leaves Kyle alone. 

“I should go buy something for dinner,” Kenny stutters. 

“I’m coming with you,” Kyle suggests. 

“No, you must be tired after such a long drive. I’ll be back in a few.” 

He needs to calm himself down. 

He needs a moment to pull himself together. Fortunately, Kyle doesn’t insist. 

* * *

All Kyle can think about is that Kenny is not himself. 

Kyle shouldn’t be nosy while Kenny is not home, but he is curious to see how his old friend is doing and he’s strangely attracted to this place. It’s not a big apartment, on the contrary. Whoever has integrated the living room and the kitchen in one place has not thought it over well, but it’s not an eyesore. The whole thing is a little bit larger than the room Kyle is going to sleep in, and the bathroom is so small it’s a wonder they managed to stick a bathtub in there. Nevertheless, the apartment feels too big for just one person. 

And it’s sad. There are happy memories hiding between the yellowed curtains, and it’s obvious someone used the kitchen much more frequently once upon a time. Not anymore, though. The fridge is empty except for two cans of beers and Chinese takeout. Dirty plates are scattered around on the coffee table and in the sink. Kyle is almost tempted to wash the dishes, but he’s not sure if Kenny will like it if he does. 

He paces around the living room instead, killing time, waiting for Kenny to come back. He drops down on the couch. Despite appearances, it’s comfortable. He lays down, suddenly exhausted, but when his head hits the pillow he feels something hard nudge his side. He pulls himself up in a sitting position and searches under the cushions. He doesn’t expect to find a camera. 

It’s relatively new. 

Kyle studies it from all angles, fascinated. Kenny doesn’t look like the type to own a camera, and Kyle is afraid to know what the guy has been filming. He gives in to curiosity and switches the camera on. 

He presses the rewind button and starts the video. 

There is a pair of bare feet –Kenny’s feet. The camera is shaky in Kenny’s hands. He is laughing. 

Kenny is recording himself with his feet up on the coffee table, sitting right where Kyle is sitting right now. He flexes his toes and laughs again. 

(When was the last time Kyle heard Kenny laugh that way?) 

_“Dude, you are going to remember my feet forever!”_ Kenny’s voice startles Kyle. He’s undoubtedly happy. 

_“Are you playing with my camera again?”_

Kyle almost drops the camera on his lap at the sound of the familiar nasal voice. Kenny laughs, turns the camera on him. Kyle sees his sky blue eyes flicker with amusement. Kenny sticks his tongue at him, makes a vulgar gesture with his fingers and then the whole room shakes as he moves around the couch to point at the camera upwards towards the bathroom’s door. 

Kyle’s breath hitches. 

There’s Craig. Naked after a shower, with a towel hanging around his waist. His wet hair sticks to the side of his face, and Kenny zooms in on the rivulets of water trickling down Craig’s torso. 

_“Yeah, you’re right,”_ Kenny says. _“This is a much better shot than my feet.”_

And Craig snorts. 

Kyle is fascinated. Kenny zooms out on Craig’s face. He is smiling. 

_“Put that down,”_ Craig says. _“It’s embarrassing,”_ he adds and disappears in Kenny’s (their?) room. 

_“Don’t worry, I’ll delete it,”_ Kenny promises following Craig with his camera until the raven haired man closes the door behind him. 

_“I don’t believe you,”_ Craig shouts. The video goes static. 

Kyle waits for another video, but there’s none. He presses rewind again and imagines Kenny doing that again and again in the past few months. The button is worn out. Kyle’s throat aches. 

Kenny sticks his tongue at him again. He looks incredibly happy. It’s not the Kenny that has gone grocery shopping mere minutes before. 

He pauses the video again. Focuses his gaze on Kenny’s eyes. Kenny sticks his tongue out. Kyle presses the play button again. Studies Craig’s features. His heart clenches when Craig’s lips imperceptibly tug upwards. 

_“Don’t worry, I’ll delete it.”_

His voice is amused. Full of life. The playful tone Kyle remembers from the past. _“Don’t worry, I’ll delete it.”_

He presses rewind. 

_“Put that down.”_ Kenny is fascinated with him. He is staring at him, enjoys the view. He loves him. It’s crystal clear. 

_“Don’t worry, I’ll delete it,”_ he says. Teasing. Fond. Loving. 

Kyle plays the video until the end, switches the camera off and hides it back between the couch’s cushions. He’s angry at Kenny for lying straight to his face. He has seen Craig. He knew Craig more than he wants to admit. Why the lies? But then he can’t be angry at Kenny for long. He bits his lips and presses his palms against his eyes. 

He has to talk to someone about it. Kenny is not doing okay. That much is obvious. 

He quickly reaches for his phone and dials Stan’s number. 

“Stan. I found Kenny.” 


	3. Chapter 2

When he was sixteen years old Kenny discovered that, if he concentrates hard enough, he can revive past deaths in his sleep. He doesn’t know how exactly this power works or what it’s good for. Maybe he is supposed to learn from it. Yet, these dreams are worse than 1950s educational videos. They are anything but enlightening. It’s just him dying over and over again, in every possible way. In his dreams he can’t physically feel the pain, but it's a disturbing sight all the same. 

There is one death he likes to relive, though.

When he was nine years old he died laughing. Whenever nightmares torment him, he plays that particular death in his head. It helped him greatly when he was a teenager, especially when Kevin left. Nowadays, however, Kenny can’t concentrate on anything that isn’t Craig. 

And in those moments he wishes he could relive past near-death experiences too, because those are by far happier memories. The joy of being alive. The hope that this time nothing can’t go wrong. No one realizes how nice it is to breathe until their lungs collapse. With time having been on the verge of eternal darkness once is not a groundbreaking experience anymore. Memories fade away, details become blurred, and loved ones don’t have a voice. There is no sound. Just silence. 

Maybe to forget is the most human thing. But it’s worse than dying. 

His favorite near-death experience includes Craig. 

The almost accident happened a couple of months before they moved in together, a particularly cold winter evening, when they were heading home after an exhausting day of work. 

“You shouldn’t keep it a secret anymore, dude,” Craig says. It’s sudden. Kenny whips around and blinks at him as if he has sprouted a second head. Craig doesn’t look ashamed in the least. In fact, his face is devoid of emotion. Dark blue eyes pierce Kenny’s soul, Craig’s mouth is a thin line, he’s not joking. 

There is no one there on the bridge but them. The traffic is thick under their feet. Someone honks. The headlights of the cars racing by temporarily blind them. 

“Everybody has a secret to keep,” Kenny jokes, tries to play it cool. But Craig is having none of it. He leans against the guardrail with a loud sigh and looks up at the first stars dotting the darkening sky above them. 

“Yeah,” is all Craig mutters. Kenny is intrigued. 

“You look constipated,” Kenny teases him, leaning right next to him. 

“You are pain in the ass sometimes,” Craig retorts, not missing a beat. “I am almost tempted to throw you down this bridge.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Kenny says. 

“Wanna bet on it?” 

Kenny throws back his head and laughs. There are tears in his eyes, and Craig’s face suddenly softens. Kenny doesn’t notice. 

“Seriously, Craig, they don’t need to know I live here,” Kenny says when his laughter subsides. He tries to sound cheerful, indifferent even, but Craig can see right through him, and Kenny has to avert his gaze somewhere else if he doesn’t want to betray himself. 

“Sure they don’t.” 

“You know as well as I do that they never cared about me,” Kenny says, irritation seeping through his words. He feels Craig’s shoulder brush against his, but it’s not intentional. It’s actually Kenny who steps closer. 

“And neither do you,” Kenny adds, finally looking up into Craig’s eyes, dares him to retort. Craig just holds his gaze, and Kenny suddenly resents him for being able to keep a poker face no matter what. He needs to learn it from him. It was easier to bluff when he constantly wore his parka over his head.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Craig says, and a smirk spreads across Kenny’s face. 

“Oooh,” he taunts. “Tweek is not gonna like it.” 

Kenny is completely taken aback when Craig bursts out laughing. His forehead creases in confusion, and he leans closer to Craig, trying to decipher the other’s face. 

“Do you want to know _my_ secret?” Craig asks, resting his elbows on the guardrail. “Tweek and I have never really dated,” he confesses. 

“What?” Kenny is at a loss for words, and he gazes at Craig as if he were some kind of mysterious animal. 

“We were faking it,” Craig says, and if Kenny isn’t mistaken, he looks actually relieved to get this off his chest. “People became so invested in our supposed relationship that we decided to go along with it. We didn’t want to see people hurt because we broke up. We were kids at the time, but… well, we just got used to it in the long run. We are best friends. Nothing more.” 

Eyes cast down, all Kenny can mutter is a simple: “Oh.” 

“Now that I’m in college and he’s working in the family business people think we are in a long distant relationship, but it’s not true.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Kenny asks when Craig falls silent. His fingers tap nervously on the guardrail, and Kenny is drawn to the rhythmic sound. 

“Because if I hadn’t told you this, you wouldn’t have been surprised to know I am starting to have gay feelings for you, but for me it is a big deal. It’s completely unexpected.” 

Kenny wants to tease Craig for his choice of words, but he doesn’t have the guts to. Not when Craig is gazing at him like that. There is no hesitation, no sign that Craig regrets what he just said, but by now Kenny knows him enough to see how nervous he really is. 

His throat feels suddenly dry. 

“You can make fun of me, go on,” Craig says. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“You know I can handle it,” Craig says. “Go on. The only thing I won’t take well is if you tell me once more that I don’t care about you. Since I started working with you, I finally got to meet the real Kenny, not the one that follows Cartman around like-!” Craig snorts when Kenny shoots him a warning glance. “Kenny, I fell in love with you. Your friends know you much longer, so I doubt they don’t care about you as much as you care about them.” 

Kenny gulps down. He is not used to Craig’s sincere smile. He’s only seen it when Tweek was around, and now that it’s directed at him, he doesn’t know what to do about it. He’s flattered and just a little bit shocked. 

But most all, he’s angry. Craig doesn’t know the real Kenny. If he did, he wouldn’t say such things. 

“You don’t know everything,” Kenny snaps. He shifts his gaze from Craig to the traffic under their feet. He’s drawn to the lights; he leans over the railing, feels his heels leave the solid ground. He is standing on his toes. Just a little bit and he’s going to fall down. Splash. A dive into the asphalt.

“Listen, Craig,” Kenny says. “I _know_ they don’t care. There is something wrong with me and they never gave a flying fuck.” 

Craig patiently waits for him to continue. 

“I died so many times in front of them, sometimes by their hand, and they always forget. If they really cared, they would have noticed something is off, right?” 

When Craig’s breath hitches in surprise, Kenny can’t help feeling a little proud of himself. He bends over. His stomach is pressed on the guardrail. It aches. Once he falls down this conversation is over and Craig will forget all about it the next day. They will go back to the beginning, and Craig will still believe he does care. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Craig asks. 

“I can’t die, Craig,” Kenny says. “It wouldn’t be a secret if someone fucking remembered, but no one does. If I jump off this bridge right now, you will be a little sad at first, maybe, but then you’ll forget we even talked, maybe you’ll think I didn’t even come to work today. If you were Cartman you would even push me to speed things up, and if you were Kyle you would shout at Cartman first and laugh at my stupidity second,” Kenny is ranting, he knows, but he can’t stop. He’s fuming. This curse is his to bear. No one knows what it feels like to die and see that nothing changes when you are gone. Life just goes on. No grief. As if he has never existed. Maybe if he dies for real, his whole existence will be literally erased from history and-! 

Craig wraps his fingers around Kenny’s arm and pulls him back to earth. His grip is tight. Kenny doesn’t expect him to look so terrified. Craig’s eyes are incredibly big, his lips are slightly parted, and Kenny wants to throw himself in his arms and cry. He doesn’t. It would only make things worse. 

“You’re right, there is something seriously wrong with you,” Craig says but his voice is not as harsh as it should have been. It’s strangely tender. 

“I can’t die, Craig,” Kenny repeats. 

“Okay, I believe you,” he says, taking Kenny completely off-guard. 

“You don’t.” 

“Of course I don’t,” Craig says. “It’s crazy. But if it is indeed true, I don’t want you go and kill yourself to prove it to me. Fuck, according to what you just told me, I’m going to forget about it anyway so what’s the point? Whatever, dude. You can’t die. It’s harder for you than it is for me, so I will shut my mouth and believe you. Okay,” he draws a deep breath, tries to calm himself down, “you die. Let’s try to avoid that, shall we? If it ever happens and you just go all Jesus Christ on me the next day, you can say, hey Craig, yesterday I died. What’s for breakfast? And I’ll be cool with that. As long as I know it wasn’t by your own hand. Accidents happen, but suicide? Kenny. Don’t.” 

Kenny blinks at him in surprise. He can almost sense the unsettling feeling welling inside Craig and Kenny instinctively reaches for his hand. Craig’s fingers intertwine with his, and his heart slows down. Kenny lets out a snort, if not to reduce the sudden tension, to let Craig know he got the message. 

“You really love me.”

Craig flips him off with his free hand, and a fond smile graces Kenny’s lips. 

“Is flipping me the bird going to be our always?” 

“Yes,” Craig says. “Consider yourself lucky.” 

* * *

“Hey, Kenny!” 

Kenny does a table take when Kyle shoots up from the couch and smiles brightly at him. He tries his best to reciprocate the smile, no matter how unsettling it is to see Kyle being overexcited at the mere sight of him. Red blotches come on Kyle’s face at Kenny’s reaction, and he immediately averts his eyes, not knowing what to do. Kenny closes the door behind him, congratulating himself for being able to shut Kyle up with so little. 

“Hey,” he greets. “I found some Challah pizza rolls. There’s a store right-!” 

“Thank you, Kenny,” Kyle interrupts him and meets him half-way to take the shopping bag from his hands. Without peeking inside, Kyle puts it on the counter near the sink, and Kenny finally realizes there is something wrong with the kitchen. 

“You washed the dishes,” he deadpans. Kyle doesn’t look embarrassed in the least. 

“I wouldn’t have, but then I saw a cockroach swimming in one of the bowls and I said, fuck it.” 

“You killed Jim?” Kenny jokes. “I liked the guy.” 

“Don’t tell me you keep cockroaches as pets!” 

Kyle’s expression is priceless, and Kenny throws his head back and bursts out laughing. 

“Dude, that’s sick,” Kyle says, watching Kenny as he makes his way to the fridge to put his grocery away. His back is turned, so Kenny doesn’t see how Kyle’s shocked expression slips into a softer one. 

“Should I throw the frozen pizza rolls in the microwave?” Kyle asks, and Kenny arches his eyebrow at the sound of Kyle’s nervous voice. He wonders what’s up with the guy, but Kyle doesn’t give him the chance to ask questions. 

“Hey, Kenny,” Kyle says, fiddling with the frozen rolls, “I’ve checked the internet while you were away and I saw there’s a NASCAR race this Sunday. I think we should go.” 

Kenny almost drops the milk carton he’s holding and turns around to face Kyle head on. Kyle looks defiantly at him, and Kenny is now one hundred percent sure that Kyle is hiding something from him. 

“I thought you were staying for a couple of days,” Kenny says. 

“Yes, but…” Kyle hesitates. “If you don’t mind, I can stay a week more. I mean, it’s been so long since we-!” 

“Oh, Kyle, I didn’t know you missed me so much!” Kenny jokes. 

“Of course I did,” Kyle retorts, taking Kenny completely aback. There’s an angry line between his eyebrows, and Kenny’s throat feels suddenly dry. “So what do you say?” Kyle asks, sounding so unsure it makes Kenny’s heart melt. 

“Isn’t that going to affect your study schedule or something?” Kenny asks. He is tempted to tell Kyle he can’t stay. 

“It’s just college,” Kyle says. “And for you…” 

Kyle trails off. He waves his hand in the air, and Kenny doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

“You’re not supposed to make me blush, Ky.” 

“Fuck you, Kenny,” Kyle snaps. “I’m serious.” 

The microwave dings. 

“Okay,” Kenny agrees. Something in his stomach tightens when Kyle’s expression becomes suddenly radiant. “Okay,” he repeats. “There’s plenty of room here.” 

Without waiting for Kenny’s indications, Kyle immediately goes for the right drawer and takes two plates and two glasses out. It’s obvious that Kyle has done more than plainly wash the dishes, and Kenny wonders if the redhead pried into his personal stuff as well. Weirdly enough, he doesn’t mind. 

“I’ll go buy the tickets tomorrow,” Kyle says, setting the table. 

“What tickets?” 

Kyle rolls his eyes. “The NASCAR race, duh.” 

“I thought you were joking.” 

“I’m not,” Kyle says taking the pizza rolls out from the microwave. “And maybe we could go to the movies too. What do you say?” 

“Okay,” Kenny agrees. 

“Did you wash your hands?” 

“In a minute.” 

“Maybe we could go to the arcade too. Or to the zoo. Or, whatever. You’ve been hiding here for four years,” the accusing tone from Kyle’s part is not lost on Kenny, but he ignores it. “You know the city more than I do. You know where we can do fun stuff.” 

“We could do fun stuff at home too.” 

“I’m not spending my week in this rat hole,” Kyle declares, and Kenny can’t help laughing. 

“Okay, Ky. Whatever you wish.” 

Kyle beams at him, and Kenny slightly shakes his head in disbelief. He wonders why he is not getting the third degree yet, although Kyle manages to make him talk about his job at the coffee shop over dinner. Kyle is a talker, and Kenny doesn’t mind having him there with him. It would have been better if Kyle just left, but for now Kenny enjoys his company. 

The next day Kyle needs to visit some international law firms for his project, and Kenny goes to work, without worrying about leaving him home alone. They don’t see each other until late in the evening. 

Kyle’s first morning in the city is rough. He talks with lawyers and their secretaries for hours, trying to get access to the documents he needs. It’s soon becomes obvious that his student ID card can’t unlock all doors, but that his talent for speeches does and soon enough he is surrounded by stacks of legal documents. 

NS Express Inc. cases are boring, to say the least, but by the end of the day it’s crystal clear why the company went bankrupt after all. Based on his findings, Kyle can write his essay in a couple of days, so he takes his time with the truck accident files instead. 

There’s nothing particularly interesting there. Just numbers. The time of the accident, the cause, the kind of damages inflicted on the truck… Craig’s name is never mentioned, not even once. Kyle finds it on a copy of a letter sent by some insurance company. Victim: Craig Tucker, born in South Park, Colorado. 

There’s no picture of him, but there’s a picture of Craig’s car. Kyle picks it up and studies it carefully. The windshield is stained with blood. There’s a huge dent in the hood of the car. Busted taillights. The license plate is illegible. The NS Express Inc. truck is outlined in the background. The damage to the truck is far less impressive. 

Kyle stares at the photo as if it holds the secret of the universe. Still there’s nothing in there that points to Craig Trucker. It may very well be a stranger’s car. 

He wonders what exactly happened. Craig always struck him as the safest of drivers. It was difficult to distract him when he set his mind on something, and if his eyes were on the road, then Craig must have seen the truck from miles away. 

Kyle checks the documents at hand. The truck was heading to a neighboring town. Kyle speculates. The road was clear; the sun was setting over the horizon but it was bright enough to see the truck’s broken flashlights. Craig could have overtaken him. The drunken driver behind him, however, might have crashed into the truck all the same. 

Speed? 

The truck had stopped in the middle of the road. No document mentions how fast Craig was going. Guess Kyle needs to read the police reports to get more information. 

Conjectures. Hypotheses. There’s nothing concrete. 

Where was Craig going? It’s a Saturday. The sun is setting. There’s nothing but countryside for miles. Where was he going all alone? Kyle plays Kenny’s video in his head. Craig is an astrophysics student. Maybe he wants to go star gazing. Alone? Seems unlikely. 

Kyle would have left it at that if it weren’t for Kenny. Where was he during the accident? Was he working? Was he home alone? 

It’s impossible to imagine Craig and Kenny sharing an apartment. Who would have thought that Kenny might find Craig interesting? Wasn’t Craig dating Tweek, anyway? No. They broke up when Craig left for college, didn’t they? Maybe. Kyle doesn’t know. Was Craig returning to South Park? No, their town is in the opposite direction from the one Craig was heading to. Why wasn’t Kenny with him? Did they fight? Was he distracted thinking of Kenny? It’s unsettling. Craig definitely wasn’t paying attention to the road. The truck was there. Behind him, another car. Bam. 

How long have they’ve been living together? Craig and Kenny… Impossible. Kyle can’t wrap his mind around it. He understands Craig. Kenny is a flirt. What the hell. Who made the first move? And how is that even relevant? The picture of the car mocks him. Maybe Kyle is looking at this the wrong way. 

Wait a minute.

Craig was alone, wasn’t he? Then why is the windshield cracked left _and_ right? Most of the damage should have been on the driver’s side, but it’s not. It’s equally divided. Maybe it was the impact force. But. There is blood all over the dashboard. As if there were two people crashing against it and not just one. Damn it. Kyle needs a clearer picture. 

Fuck. 

Kyle puts the documents he needs aside and checks around him to see if someone is in the big meeting room with him. The coast is clear, so he takes out his cellphone and dials his father’s number. 

“Dad?” he asks. “Is the chief of police still indebted to you? I need to ask you a favor.” 

* * *

Stan sighs deeply.

He stares at the doorbell as if it somehow insulted him and shoves his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here exactly, or what he is supposed to ask, but if Kyle wants him there, then he must have a good reason to. 

Afraid of his friend's reaction if he backs down now, he finally raises a finger and rings the doorbell. 

Not a minute later, Tricia Tucker answers the door. 


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to avoid confusion, this is set in the past, thus the use of the past tense. If you see any grammar mistakes just tell me, because I think I missed some somewhere. As always, thank you so much for the comments! Enjoy the next chapter! <3

* * *

Kenny slowly opened his eyes. 

The slight undertone of bleach filled his nostrils, making him sick in the stomach. The telltale beeps on the heart monitor were incredibly loud, a moan escaping from the patient lying in the adjacent bed sounded like a growl. He tried to turn to the side and keep sleeping, but a sharp pain rushed up his arm at the sudden movement. Kenny shot an annoyed look at the IV attached to him, as if that was the cause of all his misfortunes. 

“Hey,” a tender voice snapped his attention from the discarded oxygen tanks to Kevin sitting on a cheap looking plastic chair by his bed. Someone started pushing a trolley down the hallway, and Kevin rushed to close the door to keep the sounds out before he sat back down and took Kenny’s hand in his. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’ve been ran over by a truck,” Kenny croaked. He coughed to clear his voice. “What happened?” 

“You collapsed in the middle of the road,” Kevin explained. He reached out to shove a strand of blond hair from his brother’s forehead, and Kenny furrowed his eyebrows when Kevin’s warm expression contorted in an undecipherable one. It lasted but a moment, but it was enough to make Kenny uneasy. 

“I collapsed?” Kenny asked. 

“You passed out from exhaustion,” Kevin said, fixing his eyes on him. A hard, enquiring look. “According to the doctors, it was caused by sleep deprivation and self-imposed starvation.” 

Kenny slipped his hand away from Kevin’s hold. 

“Kenny, what are you doing?” Kevin asked. The accusing tone made Kenny wince. “Kenny.” It’s a warning. 

“Nothing,” Kenny defended himself. His voice came out harsh, aggressive, and Kevin squeezed Kenny’s shoulder to force him to look at him straight in the eyes. Kenny didn’t even know when he averted his gaze in the first place. 

“Should I take a guess?” Kevin asked, and Kenny hated the sarcasm seeping through his brother’s words. For a moment Kenny could see his father’s features hiding in the folds around Kevin’s mouth and he closed his eyes shut. Kevin shook him again. 

“You’re only sixteen years old,” Kevin said. “You should be studying. Your only concern is to finish high school. You are definitely not supposed to work two part-time jobs when you are not at school.” 

“You’re not much older than me,” Kenny accused him. “You dropped high-school, remember? Don’t talk like you’re wiser or better than me.” 

“For your information, dipshit,” Kevin said. “You are not the only one who’s working his ass off to give Karen a better future.” 

Kenny casted his eyes down, and Kevin took a deep breath, running a hand through his messy chestnut hair to calm himself down. 

“This can’t go on,” Kevin muttered. 

Kenny raised his gaze towards his brother again, arching an eyebrow at Kevin’s pained expression. Kevin rubbed his face and eyes with one hand before continuing: 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I’m not going to die,” Kenny said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. 

“Grow up, fucker,” Kevin cussed. “You ain’t superman.” 

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Kenny hissed, snapping his head to his brother. The heart rate on the monitor sped up, and all Kenny wanted was to rip the sensors from his chest and walk out the door. 

“I want you to finish high-school,” Kevin declared. “And maybe get into college and do something meaningful with your fucking life.” 

“I’m not going to college,” Kenny spat. “Karen-!” 

“Karen is coming with me,” Kevin cut him off. Sky blue eyes filled with fear, but Kevin put his chin up and tightened his lips in determination, dared him to stand up to him. 

“You can’t.” 

“I can and I will,” Kevin said. Kenny’s rapid breathing was Kevin’s clue to stop talking. He shot a quick glance at the heart-rate monitor behind Kenny’s head and sighed. “Let’s talk about it when you get outta here,” he said, calmer. 

“No,” Kenny’s voice cracked. “Let’s talk about it now! Why are you doing this to me?” 

“I’m doing this for you _and_ Karen,” Kevin said, final. “I know you love her, big guy, but I can’t stand seeing you work yourself to death to make some extra money anymore,” he added. The lines between his eyebrows softened. “Thanks to my current boss I found a really good job in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. I’ve saved enough money for us to start a new life there and-!” 

“Fuck you, Kevin!” Kenny exclaimed. “It’s too far away! Karen can’t-!” 

“Do you really want Karen to end up like us? Like our mom?” Kevin snapped back, suddenly losing his patience. Kenny shut his mouth. With flared nostrils, Kenny gritted his teeth and looked away towards the closed door. 

A creak coming from the adjacent bed reminded them that they were not alone in the small hospital room. Kenny’s arm ached. Kevin drew a deep breath. 

“The salary is good,” Kevin said. “Karen has better chances there than here in South Park.” 

“What about me?” Kenny whispered, willing himself to look at Kevin again. 

“You finish high-school,” Kevin said. 

“I want to come too,” Kenny retorted. Kevin did not reply. “There is nothing for me here if you leave.” 

“I’m going to call the nurse,” Kevin said instead, standing up. The chair’s leg scraped against the tiled floor. Shoulders slumped, Kenny leaned against his pillow in resignation and watched Kevin make a bee line to the door. When his brother finally left, Kenny heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He ran a thumb over his wet cheeks and waited. 

Apparently, Kenny had been out cold for two days straight. Kevin and Karen stood by his side while the nurse checked out on him and his mother talked to the doctors outside. An hour later, he was finally released from the hospital. 

Stuart McCormick was leaning against their old pick-up when the three stepped out of the building, the hip flask in his right hand reflecting the setting sun above them. He took a sip from it before sliding into the driver’s seat. Kenny was definitely not in the mood to talk, but smiled brightly at Karen when she placed her hand in his. In the front seat, Carol McCormick complained about the medical bills they couldn’t afford. 

As soon they got home Karen and Kenny hid in the former’s room. He listened to her, while she explained to him what happened in the past few days. She’d been worried sick, she told him. Kevin too. When Kenny asked if anyone else came to visit him in the hospital, Karen just shook her head no. 

Not even once did his baby sister mention Kevin’s intention to leave with her for Harrisburg, so Kenny could only suppose she still didn’t know anything about it. He wondered whether his parents had a hand in this or it was all Kevin’s handiwork. Kenny decided to postpone the difficult conversation to the day after. He needed to speak with his parents first, preferably his mom. 

No one called him to check how he’s doing. He skipped school and no one cared. 

His mom let him play sick the day after. There was no one home but the two of them. 

“Mom?” 

“Yes, baby?” Carol asked, not tearing her eyes from the dishes she was washing. Her raspy voice was soothing to the ear, the familiar movements of her back while she worked, a lifeline. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious of Carol’s calm exterior. She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, wiping the suds across her cheek. 

“Harrisburg. Did you know about this?” he asked, finally breaking the long silence. The imperceptible hitch of her shoulders was all Kenny needed to keep talking: “Are you going to let Karen go?” 

“Kevin is old enough,” was all Carol said. 

“I’m not talking about Kevin, I’m talking about your third kid. Because that’s what she is. A _kid_.” 

Carol let out an irritated sigh and wiped her hands against her shirt before she faced him head on. 

“I trust Kevin to do the right thing and take care of her,” Carol said. “We both know it’s better if Karen left. South Park is not gonna give her shit, hon.” 

“I am trying to-!” Kenny started and bit his lips when he realized he was yelling. He took a deep breath and continued: “I was taking care of her. I am doing my best to raise money for her.” 

“You’ll never make it alone, not at the pace you are going,” Carol retorted. “That useless piece of shit of your father will never help you out with this, while Kevin found a _real_ job. They are going to make it. Do you really want to be selfish and ruin her chances of doing something useful in her life?” 

“No,” Kenny said, affronted, and Carol rolled her eyes to the ceiling in annoyance. 

“What’s your problem then?” 

“I want to go too.” 

“No way, Kenny,” Carol argued. “You have school and Kevin can’t maintain both of you.” 

“I can take care of myself!” 

Carol’s mouth pressed into a thin, hard line, and she whipped around, back to her dishes. 

“No.” 

Kenny jumped back in surprise. 

“Why not?” 

“You’ll just end back in the hospital,” Carol said. “I know exactly how you plan to take care of yourself and I do not approve.” 

“I’ll be careful this time!” Kenny rebuked. Carol broke out into a bitter laugh. “Mom!” 

“You can’t leave South Park, Kenneth, and that’s final,” Carol said, slamming her fist on the counter. The dishes rattled loudly, and Kenny gritted his teeth. 

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I said so!” Carol shouted, turning her angry glare at him. “Four hours away from here are the furthest I’ll ever let you go! Harrisburg is out of the question.” 

Carol’s outburst took Kenny totally aback, and he stared at her with eyes wide with wonder. She crossed her arms over her chest, a distressed expression flashing across her face. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” Kenny asked, fearing he knew the answer to Carol’s resistance. “Mom?” he asked, cautious. A sob broke out from his mother’s lips, and Kenny ran by her side in two strides. 

“Don’t leave me too, baby, not yet” she said wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a crushing hug. Kenny hesitantly raised his hand to pat her back. He could feel it in the way she cried against his shoulder than there was more to this than it met the eye. He wondered if it was his curse’s fault. If she knew what he had to go through all those years. He didn’t have the guts to ask. So he said:

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” 

She let out a sigh of relief and pulled him even closer, crushing his ribs with her bony arms. 

Kenny didn’t bring the conversation up again, but his mother’s cryptic words gave him something to think about. Was it true that he couldn’t leave South Park? Was it possible that his curse was somehow linked to this hell of a mountain town? Maybe if he crossed the borders, he was going to die for real. He entertained the idea for a while until he realized it was impossible. He had left South Park before; he’s been to Mexico and Japan, for example, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. 

Unless it had nothing to do with his ability not to die. Maybe it interfered with his ability to come back to life. He had to try it out. He had to see what exactly happened if he died outside of Colorado. 

So one early Friday morning, when everyone was still fast asleep in their beds, he left home without any money and hitchhiked to Albuquerque. 

Kenny absolutely loathed dying. It hurt like hell, even when it was so sudden he didn’t have the time to fully understand what hit him. If he wasn’t angry or just acting stupidly, summoning all his courage to kill himself actually took effort. This time, however, he had determination by his side. As soon as he reached the city, he threw himself off a bridge. 

Only to wake up the next morning in his bed. In South Park. 

“What the hell,” he muttered. 

He tried again. This time he hitchhiked to Denver. Again he woke up three days later in South Park. 

“Damn it.” 

Kenny had no idea why, no matter _where_ he died, he always got back to square one. Only the length of time he stayed dead was completely random. One time it took him a whole year to be reborn, and if that happened again, there was no way he could stay by Karen’s side while she lived in Harrisburg. 

Moreover, if he died, he had to drive back to Harrisburg every fucking time. 

It was impossible. 

What if he got killed on his way some place? Maybe he would end up waking up somewhere around his destination and not back in his bed. It was a long shot at best, but he had to try. What if he died outside of Harrisburg, for example, while _living_ in Harrisburg? Maybe when he was on his way somewhere he got to go back to the place he actually lived. His theories were getting weirder by the second. Let’s test it out once more, he thought. 

So Kenny poured rat poison in a thermos and walked out of home. 

“Where are you going?” 

His mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks. It was still the middle of the night, but Carol looked very much awake, as if she hadn’t slept a wink for days and had no intention to. 

“Just…” Kenny began, quickly hiding his thermos behind his back. She narrowed her gaze at him. 

“You’ve been acting weird this past week,” Carol said. Kenny rolled his eyes to the ceiling. How could she say that when he had been dead for the most part? 

“I’m fine,” he drawled. 

“No, you are not, hon,” Carol said. “I saw you pouring rat poison in that thermos you are trying to hide so inconspicuously from me.” 

“It’s not rat poison, it’s tea.” 

“Save it for someone who doesn’t care,” Carol spat. Anger boiled inside him. She had no idea what was going on and yet, here she was trying to be a good mother, when she never cared enough to notice him dying. 

“It is because of Karen leaving?” Carol asked, her voice strangely tender. 

“I want her to be happy, mom,” he retorted. “I just…” he hesitated. “I just want to be with her too.” 

“You can’t leave South Park, baby,” Carol said. “I have to be with you.” 

“Why?” 

Once again a wall raised between the two. His mother shuffled her feet, looking down at the ground, and Kenny had no idea why she didn’t want to speak openly to him. 

“You’re not going to make her happy if you drink that rat poison,” Carol said. Kenny snorted. He wanted to yell at her, shake her by the shoulders and force her to speak, but he couldn’t. Not when Stuart did the same to her every single day. Not when Carol looked so vulnerable, so afraid of being left alone. 

“I told you, it’s tea.” 

“It’s not easy for me either,” Carol said. “But we have to be strong for her sake.” 

“I understand that.” 

“When you finish school, you can go wherever you wish,” Carol continued. “Just remember that you can’t live too far away from here.” 

“Can you at least tell me why?” Kenny asked. 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Carol said, fixing her eyes on him, pleading. His shoulders rounded in resignation, and a relieved look flashed across his mother’s face. 

“I’m going back to bed,” Kenny said. 

“Yeah,” she breathed. She glanced around the room, unsure of what to do, before she set her mind on the thermos Kenny was still holding. “Give me that,” she ordered, stretching her hand towards him. 

“It’s not tea,” he said, looking up at her in fear. 

“I know that,” she whispered, snatching the thermos from his hand and making a bee line to the sink. “Go back to sleep, baby.” 

Kenny couldn’t do but comply. 

He dragged his feet to his room and jumped back in surprise when he saw Karen sitting nervously on the edge of his bed. 

“Why are you here?” Kenny asked, softly closing the door behind him. 

“Were you really going to drink rat poison?” Karen asked instead. Her eyes darted around the room as if she were afraid to look directly at him. He swiftly walked by her side and sat down next to her, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“Of course not, Karen,” he said, smiling widely at her. “Do you think I am that stupid?” 

“Kevin told me about Harrisburg,” Karen said, raising her big eyes to him. She put a fingernail between her teeth, scooting closer to Kenny for reassurance. “I don’t want to go. It’s too far away. I don’t want to stay away from you. What’s the point, anyway? I’ve got nothing there, while all my friends are here, and-!” 

“Hey,” Kenny said, pulling her in his embrace. “You’re such a great person I doubt you won’t make new friends there! Besides, it’s not like we are never going to see each other again. I’ll come visit you, and I’ll always be there for you when you need me.” 

“Yes, but-!” Karen bit her lower lip. “Do you really want me to go?” she asked, tears creeping to her eyes. 

“Honestly?” Kenny asked, laughing nervously. “No. But I’ll hate myself if I don’t let you take this chance. Kevin is right. He finally got a real job. You’ll have a much better chance at education there. All your dreams will come true.” 

“But my guardian angel won’t be with me if I leave South Park.” 

Kenny’s heart skipped a beat at that, and he pulled her closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. 

“Don’t be silly,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Guardian angels never leave their loved ones unprotected. It doesn’t matter where they live.” 

“Besides, I can always move back here when I graduate, right?” Karen asked more to herself than to Kenny. 

“Yes, of course,” he said, pressing a kiss on her head. “It’s not like you’re banished from town or something.” 

She giggled. 

“It’s time you go to sleep, Karen,” he said. 

“Yes,” she agreed letting him go. She smoothly slipped into Kenny’s bed, curling up in a corner to make room for him. He snorted slightly when she flashed him a toothy grin. 

“Good night, Kenny,” she whispered closing her eyes as he laid down beside her. 

“Good night, Karen,” he wished back. He crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling above him. 

The next years were going to be a nightmare without her. There was no way he was going to quit his part time jobs. He was going to keep sending her money in one way or another. There was nothing left for him to do here, except finish high school. And then what? Then he was going to find a job and keep on living. His friends didn’t even come to see him in the hospital. No one called to check up on him. South Park always belittled him. No one would care if he just tried his luck somewhere else, where he could earn more money to send to Karen. 

Two more years and he was out of here. Sounds like a good plan, he thought and closed his eyes. Karen breathed softly next to him, and he followed her into the land of the sleeping. 

* * *

Kyle crossed the train tracks to Sodosopa, making his way to Kenny’s house. Stuart watched him, leaning against his pick-up with his hip flask in his hands. He took a sip and waited as the sight of messy red hair slowly came closer. 

“Mr. McCormick,” Kyle greeted him. Stuart screwed the cap back on and arched an eyebrow at the young Broflovski. 

“You’re here for Kenny, aren’t cha?” 

“He’s been missing school a lot these past few weeks,” Kyle said. “I wanted to see if he’s alright.” 

“He’s doing fine,” Stuart reassured him. “He’s sleeping right now. I wouldn’t wake him up, if I were you. This past week has been rough for him.” 

“I see,” Kyle said. Stuart pierced his soul with his eyes, but Kyle stared back at him, defiance written on his face. He never really liked the guy. 

“Tomorrow he’s coming back to school,” Stuart said, shoving his flask in his back pocket. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Kyle said. “Well…” he shot a quick glance at the McCormick’s front door. “Can you tell him I’ve dropped by? Maybe we can hang out later in the afternoon, if he feels up to it.” 

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Stuart said. 

“Alright,” Kyle mumbled and turned his back to him, walking back the way he came. Stuart watched him go and reached out for his hip flask again. He cursed slightly when he realized it was already empty. Fucking Broflovski. He grew up to be a stuck-up like his father. 

Stuart yawned loudly and stretched his arms above his head. Well time to go to the pub. 

Ten minutes later, Stuart completely forgot his encounter with Kyle. 


	5. Chapter 3

Tricia’s left eyebrow raises impossibly high at the sight of Stan. Jaw set, she takes an earbud off and narrows her gaze as if she’s expecting someone to jump out of the bushes to scare her off. 

Hard rock is coming softly through her earphones, and Stan flickers his gaze towards the phone in Tricia’s hand before he drifts it back to her face. It takes him a while, but when he finally notices the covered up dark circles under her eyes, whatever confidence he has crumbles down like a castle built with cards. 

“I’m here to-!” he starts, hesitates. Her stare is hard. It reminds him of Craig’s judgmental look and it doesn’t fit her at all. She’s not as tall as her brother has been –Stan has barely three inches on her- and yet she looks incredibly small. 

It’s hard to feel intimidated. Shoulders slouched, her stance can be only described as defensive, her phone shakes slightly in her hands. Maybe it’s Tricia’s failed attempt at a poker face that breaks Stan’s heart. It’s too soon, he realizes. He shouldn’t have come and Kyle shouldn’t have asked him to prod. 

Stan is ready to apologize and go back the way he came, when she finally breaks the awkward silence between them. 

“You want to talk about Craig?” 

Stan finally raises his eyes to meet hers. Despite the intense stare and the rock music she is apparently listening to, her voice is unbelievably soft, understanding even, and Stan feels even worse. She is not coping well, it’s obvious. She keeps her chin up; Stan lowers his gaze. 

For the slightest second, he wonders if he would look the same if Shelly died, before he realizes he probably wouldn’t. They never had the same kind of relationship Tricia and Craig did. And it aches to see that Tricia is dying to talk to someone about him. 

“Yeah…” he mutters. 

Asshole, he tells himself. 

Tricia sighs deeply and beckons him inside with a nod of her head: “Come in,” she says, turning her back to him. “My parents are not home,” she adds, as if that’s confidential information. 

“Where are they?” he asks, biting the inside of his mouth as soon as the words come out. 

“To the same place they go to every fucking afternoon,” Tricia says, a flash of irritation flashing over her face. “The cemetery,” she adds, dropping down on the couch. She focuses her attention on her phone again and the hard rock suddenly increases in volume. He closes the door behind him

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Stan asks, regretting it immediately after. 

Asshole. 

Her lips curl in a snarl. 

“He’s not going to crawl out of his grave, is he? So what’s the point,” she snaps. Stan takes his pompon hat off and runs a hand through his already messy hair. He searches for somewhere to sit and plops down on the very uncomfortable looking armchair right next to TV, as far away as physically possible from Tricia. 

“Craig’s right,” Tricia says. “You are a joy to be around.” 

Stan wants to be angry at her, but he can’t. She types something on her phone before she discards it on the coffee table separating them. 

“He always complained about you,” Tricia says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve always cared too much about what people thought of you and it pissed him off.” 

“Jeez, thanks,” Stan mutters. “I’ve always knew that Craig never really liked me. No need to rub it in.” 

“I didn’t say that,” she says, smirking slyly when his head snaps upwards in shock. “Compared to Cartman or Kyle, you’re an angel,” she says. “They are the real assholes here. You just tag along with the winner.” 

“I don’t,” Stan defends himself. Tricia snorts; she clearly doesn’t believe him. “I’ve tried to dissuade Kyle from doing stupid stuff back in school, remember?” he asks, trying to prove to her he’s not really the type of guy she thinks he is. She just rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m my own man,” he adds, defensively. 

Tricia snickers. 

“I don’t know what Craig told you, but you have a totally wrong impression of me. I-!” Stan stops abruptly and runs a hand through his hair in frustration again. “Okay, I understand I’m here six months too late, but you don’t need to be an asshole about it.” 

“Right,” she scoffs. “Everybody came to offer their condolences but Eric Cartman, Kyle Broflovski and you. I should feel grateful, shouldn’t I?” 

Silence falls between them, but when Tricia reaches out for her phone to do something with her hands, Stan talks again: 

“You didn’t say anything about Kenny.” 

“What about him?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in question. Her poignant look speaks louder than words. 

“What did Craig think of him?” he tries again, toning down his voice. Wrong question. Her eyes narrows in suspicion, and Stan is suddenly aware of the tension between them. There’s a secret he is not supposed to know hovering in the air, and Stan finally understand why Kyle wants him there. It’s not the right time, though. As much as Tricia desperately wants to talk about her brother with someone who knew him well, it’s not Stan she wants to speak to. 

“He was a special case,” Tricia says, weighting her words carefully. 

“It sucks that he left without a goodbye, huh?” he tries again. It’s like going through a minefield. Stan doesn’t know where to step next. 

“He had his reasons,” she says and alarms bells go off in Stan’s head. 

“Have you talked to Kenny recently?” he asks, and Tricia squints. 

“No,” she deadpans. A moment of silence. She hesitates. “But I text with Karen daily,” she finally confesses. 

“You speak with Karen McCormick?” 

“Unlike you, I do keep in touch with my friends and check up on them once in a while,” she says. “I don’t need to go around in circles to get information.” 

Stan’s breath catches. His gaze immediately falls on his hands, and he feels Tricia’s eyes burning holes into his skull. 

“How much do you know?” Tricia asks cautiously when Stan finds himself unable to speak. He looks her over and she holds his gaze, daring him to bluff. 

“Not much,” he finally says. “Kyle thinks they were dating.” He doesn’t need to explain further. Tricia heaves a sigh and closes her eyes. 

“They were,” Tricia says. She fixes her inquisitive stare on him again and smiles bitterly when Stan averts his attention somewhere else. “Is that why you are here?” 

Stan doesn’t know what to say. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of the water, and Tricia slightly shakes her head, disappointment written all over her face. Her lower lip quivers and she reaches out for her phone again just to do something that’s not looking at Stan straight in the face. 

“I’m sorry, Tricia,” Stan says. 

“What for?” she asks, a broken whisper. 

“I need to know-!” he starts. 

“Well, he’s dead now, so what’s the point,” she cuts him off. “And if you really care about your friend, you shouldn’t be asking me.” 

“The last time I saw Kenny was four years ago,” Stan snaps. “Do you think it makes me happy that there are people in South Park who knew where he was and didn’t tell us?” 

“You should have figured it out by yourself,” she snaps back. “I knew where Kenny was way before Craig did, and that’s because I’m Karen’s best friend. Even though she moved in another city, I’m still there for her. Were you? No. She asked me not to tell, and I did not. Put two and two together, Stan. He didn’t want you to know. You should have figured it out by asking the right people.” 

“Would Craig have told us then?” Stan asks, taken aback. 

“Craig loved him to bits,” Tricia says. “He couldn’t stop talking about him. Did you know Kenny tried to kill himself multiple times?” she asks, raising her voice. “Craig desperately wanted to help him, but the moment he realized that Kenny’s best friends didn’t give a damn about him, he kept his mouth shut. A word, Stan, and he would have spilled the beans to you.” 

“I- I-!” Stan stammers. “Kenny tried to do what? _Our_ Kenny?” 

“Yeah,” Tricia mutters sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “ _Your_ Kenny.” 

“Now I’m confused,” Stan says, blinking stupidly at her. “This is hard to believe, considering you didn’t even know him. You just hanged out with his sister.” 

“Oh, that’s low,” Tricia says, blushing in anger. “I fucking had a crush on him in eighth grade, you fucker. I noticed stuff you don’t even-!” she bites her lip at the slip of her tongue. Eyes casted low, she stands up from the couch. Stan watches her with eyes wide with wonder. 

“What?” Stan whispers, and Tricia clicks her tongue at him. 

“You heard me.” 

Stan falls silent. Before him Tricia rubs her eyes with her right hand, and Stan wonders if he should stand up and comfort her. 

“Did Craig know?” he asks instead. 

“Of course not, but that’s not the point,” she says. “Imagine my shock when he told me he got together with Kenny McCormick.” 

“I thought Craig was dating Tweek.” 

“I thought so too,” Tricia says. “I couldn’t believe it when Craig told me they broke up. For me they were the power couple with a capital T. I actually wanted them to get married. But then Craig went off to college and Kenny unexpectedly showed up. He never really cared for him, and then, out of the blue, Kenny had him wrapped around the finger.” 

There’s resentment in her voice that Stan can’t really put a finger on and he shoves his hands in his pockets suddenly feeling out of place. 

“I wasn’t jealous of him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, her back still to him. “Especially when I saw how happy Kenny made him,” she adds, finally facing him head on. “I’ve never seen Craig so invested in someone, Stan. He acted differently with Tweek.” 

“And Kenny?” Stan asks, his heart speeding up. She looks hesitant for a moment and she wraps her arms around her shoulder as if to give herself a little bit of comfort. 

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Sometimes I think he did love him too, sometimes I doubt he really did. I don’t know. What really makes me sad, though, is that I somehow feel Craig died because of him.” 

“Why do you say that?” Stan asks, his eyes widening in surprise. 

“I don’t know,” Tricia says. “It’s not something Craig would do…” she trails off, confusing him further. “I don’t think he would have ever cheated on Kenny, but I saw the pictures, Stan. The car crash pictures, I mean. And something’s off.” 

“I don’t follow you.” 

Tricia starts playing with a strand of hair in frustration. 

“He was not alone in that car, I’m sure of it,” she says. 

“But-!” 

“I know it doesn’t make any sense, but it’s my gut feeling on it,” she interrupts him. “What if Kenny didn’t love him back? What if Craig was so heartbroken he-!” she stops herself, and Stan fixes his eyes on the carpet under their feet. 

Silence envelopes the room. 

* * *

“The amusement park,” Kyle deadpans, looking at Kenny straight in the eyes. 

“You said you wanted to do something fun,” Kenny says, the corner of his lip curling upwards. “What’s more fun than an amusement park? The name gives it away, really.” 

“We are not kids anymore. It’s embarrassing,” Kyle retorts. 

“Oh, come on,” Kenny says, rolling his eyes. “We’re still young and you’re big enough to get on all rides,” he glances downwards, “unless there’s something I need to know?” 

“Knock it off, Kenny!” Kyle exclaims, his cheeks flushing red. The blond snickers and slides an arm around Kyle’s right one. 

The loud clanking of the rides moving is suffocated by the screams and laughter of their customers. Bellowing kids run back and forth holding candy floss and corn on the cob, while their parents struggle to keep up with them. It’s definitely noisy, but Kyle’s complains are half-hearted, really. Besides him, Kenny is bouncing up and down like a small kid on Adderall, and Kyle can’t help but feel mesmerized by the glint in the other’s blue eyes. 

“So what do you want to ride first?” Kenny asks. Kyle looks away before the other can focus his gaze on him. “The skycoaster? The top spin? The loop-o-plane?” 

Kyle whips his head towards him in disbelief. 

“Do you want to get us killed?” 

“I’m not going to ride the stupid carousel, grandma,” Kenny says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, pick one!” 

“Call me grandma again and I’ll kick your teeth right in,” Kyle warns him and sighs in frustration when Kenny responds with a grin. “Let’s go on the skycoaster first?” 

“Great choice,” Kenny comments and leads him to the ride line. Kyle follows him, fighting against the urge to pull his arm away from Kenny’s tight grip. It’s too warm. Kenny’s smile is too bright. Kyle is overwhelmed. 

What Stan told him on the phone doesn’t match with the picture in front of him. There is no way Kenny tried to kill himself. He is so full of life, his eyes widen up in wonder as he looks up to the carts barreling past them. He thinks back on the video camera and wonders how much of what Tricia Tucker believes to be true is actually false. The way Kenny laughed when Craig came into the picture. The last time Kyle heard that sound was way before Karen and Kevin left. 

The ride attendant in front of them directs them to a set of carts that has just pulled up to the track. Kenny yanks him by the arm, and Kyle lets him manhandle him. They sit down and wait. 

“Dude,” Kenny says but doesn’t add anything else. Kyle shoots a glance towards him before he sets his eyes on the tracks before him. The cart rattles underneath them. Kenny is radiating happiness. It’s contagious. Colors swirl around. People scream. They move upwards as the carts lift higher and higher. 

“You can hold onto me if you are scared,” Kenny says winking at him. 

“For the love of God-!” the scream escaping his mouth as they abruptly drive downwards is completely unintentional. Kenny bursts out laughing next to him and he doesn’t seem to mind when Kyle grips the hell out of his hand . “If I get sick,” Kyle shouts over the wind, “I’m not going to lean away from you!” 

“Kinky,” Kenny comments, and Kyle groans. 

The next abrupt turn doesn’t take Kyle off-guard and he finally manages to enjoy the ride. They are floating up above the ground, diving back on Earth a second later. 

Something doesn’t add up. 

Craig heartbroken? It’s doesn’t make any sense. Kenny looked so into him. That fondness he saw in his eyes is hard to fake. Yet again. If Tricia too noticed there was something off in those pictures, then Kyle is not wrong. There _were_ two people in that car. Craig was driving; who was he with? 

If Craig cheated on him for real, then Kenny… 

“I’m picking the next ride,” Kenny says, pushing him out of his thoughts. “What about the Tagada?” 

“Living your life to the fullest, aren’t you?” Kyle jokes. The wink Kenny’s throws his way is charming. 

“You wanna do something else?” he asks. 

“No, the Tagada is fine. Come on, there’s already a crowd waiting in line!” Kyle exclaims, taking him by the hand and pulling him away, as if he couldn’t wait to be tossed around in a giant metallic bowl. 

“Oh, look, they have popcorn,” Kenny says. 

“Later,” Kyle orders. 

“Is it just me or did law school make you bossier?” Kenny jokes, picking up his pace. 

“I’m not bossy.” 

“Could have fooled me,” Kenny mutters. Kyle turns to look at him and the blond flashes him a bright, innocent smile. Kyle's heart does a flip in his chest at the sight. 

Were you lonely? Kyle wants to ask, but the words stick in his throat. 

Kenny is easily distracted. He momentarily forgets the Tagada ride and goes for a vintage shooting gallery instead. They knock down a can after the other, and Kyle lets out a groan of frustration when Kenny beats him twenty-five to twelve. 

The Hello Kitty doll Kenny wins is shoved into Kyle’s arms. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“A token of my love.” 

“You are just gloating,” Kyle reproaches him. 

Kenny’s chest puffs out with pride, and Kyle shoves him away. 

“Fucking asshole,” he mutters. 

Kenny laughs and it’s deafening. Like the kids screaming around them. His grin is blinding. More than the lights surrounding them, and Kyle can’t help but stare and wonder. What happened. What's on your mind. 

What the hell are you hiding from me? He wants to ask. Kenny yanks him away to the Tagada ride, and Kyle follows him, Hello Kitty under his armpit. 


	6. Chapter 4

“This is a cold case, kiddo. I don’t see how it’s gonna help you,” the inspector says, leaning against the back of his office chair with both hands resting on his big belly. Big, brown eyes scrutinize Kyle from beneath two thick eyebrows. His badge reveals that his name is John Elliot. He resembles a grizzly in hibernation, but there’s something in the inspector’s smile that tells Kyle that he is very much awake and listening. 

“I know,” Kyle snaps. He’s at the end of his rope. “But I want to read the report anyway.” 

The inspector scratches under his chin. Kyle’s gaze narrows. He has asked that skank of his father for help to cut out the bureaucracy and now he’s being slowed down by a bear. Great. He is wasting his time here when he should be working on his project. Nevertheless, he is not going to leave without looking at the pictures first. 

“It’s just a car accident case,” the inspector lazily says. “One victim, a drunkard in coma, two damaged cars and an almost unscathed truck. I don’t see what’s so interesting in there.” 

The bulky man’s attention immediately focuses on Kyle’s flared nostrils, and Kyle tries his best to keep a cool head. The last thing he wants is to spend a night in the pit because he attacked a police officer and set fire to his desk. He wills himself to think of Kenny and draws a deep breath. 

“I want to see the pictures,” Kyle says, articulating each word carefully but firmly. “With all due respect, I think you missed something.” 

Now the inspector looks even more interested. He straightens up and puts his elbows on the mahogany desk in front of him. 

“And what’s that?” John Elliot asks, absentmindedly running a tongue over his bottom lip. Kenny is going to kill him if he finds out he went to the police and pried into Craig’s files, so calling him from the police station to bail him out is out of the question. He needs to stay calm. 

“I think Craig Tucker wasn’t alone in that car,” Kyle says, straightforward, and Elliot raises a thick eyebrow in surprise. Kyle stands his ground, and the inspector finally gives up. 

“This case doesn’t even count as negligent homicide, just so you know,” he says, taking a file out of his drawer and sliding it over to Kyle. There’s a hint of satisfaction in his voice, and Kyle wonders if this has been a test all along. “It was just a car accident, one of many,” Elliot says, his look eloquent. “We had to close the case.” 

Kyle grabs the file and opens it to the first page, scanning the words carefully. The quality of the pictures is superb, and the police officers have done a pretty good job by using different angles to take even better photos. The first one is a picture of the front of Craig’s car, smashed and completely unrecognizable, and Kyle slams it on the inspector’s desk, pointing at the cracked front windshield with his right index. 

“I know,” the inspector says before Kyle can speak. “You’re a smart guy, aren’t you?” 

Kyle almost jumps out of his seat in surprise: “So there were two people in that car!” 

“I didn’t say that, kiddo,” the inspector says, leaning against his chair again. Kyle stares at him with his eyes open wide in wonder and drifts his attention back to the photos again. Underneath the one he is pointing at there is a picture of a body slouched forwards on the steering wheel, his right arm bended at an unnatural angle. Kyle shivers. 

“I was the first on the scene,” Elliot says. “The windshield was the first thing that got my attention. That and the front passenger’s door,” he says, shoving Craig’s picture away to reveal the next one in line. The front passenger’s side door is hanging off its hinges. “Everybody blames the impact force, but I don’t.” 

“It’s plausible,” Kyle says. “What made you think there’s something more than meets the eye here?” he asks, leaning towards him. The inspector smirks at him and taps on the picture of the car’s door again. Kyle follows his finger and tilts his head in confusion. “Is that a…?” 

“Yeah,” the inspector says. “There’s a piece of blue fabric trapped in the window’s trim seal. And guess what? The right sleeve of Tucker’s _blue_ shirt has been torn off.” 

Kyle blinks at him, trying to put two and two together.

“Craig wasn’t driving?” he asked, flabbergasted. 

“I don’t see any other explanation here,” the inspector says. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Kyle says. “If there were two people in Craig’s car, they should both be dead. Look!” Kyle exclaimed, his heartbeat speeding up. “Look at the blood! How could the other passenger survive? And why would they go through the trouble of moving Craig’s body around?” 

“It’s difficult to believe, I know,” Elliot says, heaving a sigh. “We searched the area for bloody footprints or another dead body. We left no stone unturned, I assure you, but nothing. I called all nearby hospitals to check who they have admitted that day and the next. That was a dead end too.” 

Kyle’s ears buzz. 

“Is it possible they got out of that car unscathed?” he asks, feeling on the verge of throwing up. His stomach clenches. He thinks of Kenny and Craig smiling in that video, and he starts hyperventilating. 

“I consider it highly unlikely, but nothing is impossible at this point,” the inspector says. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but I couldn’t do anything else,” he adds, his words seeped in sadness. “No one believed me when I said we should take this case more seriously. They dismissed it. One victim, a drunkard in coma, two damaged cars and an almost unscathed truck,” Elliot repeats. “All evidence destroyed.” 

“You didn’t even run a test to see if all that blood belonged to Craig?” Kyle asks, upset. The inspector casts his eyes low and takes Craig’s picture between his fingers. 

“They saw no point in it,” the inspector says. 

“This is insane!” Kyle exclaims. “This might be a murder case and- and-!” he groans loudly and slams his hands on the desk. “Why would anyone move Craig’s body around and leave the scene without alerting the police? What did they want to hide?” 

The inspector’s keen eyes fix on Kyle’s face and his lips tighten into a thin line. 

“Did Craig have any enemies as far as you know?” Elliot inquires. “A brokenhearted lover maybe? Was he cheating on someone?” 

Kyle is taken aback by the inspector’s sudden interrogation and he opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of the water. He shakes his head no, then yes, then back to no again. His lips are dry. He wants to scream, be angry at someone, because whoever has hurt Craig –and therefore Kenny- is going to remain a mystery forever and that’s not fair. It’s not fair to either of them. And Kenny is going to keep suffering is silence, and Kyle can do nothing to help him out. 

“Do you want a glass of water?” the inspector asks, concern written all over his chubby face. 

“I haven’t spoken to Craig in ages,” Kyle says, slouching into his seat. “I’ve no idea what he was up to. I just-!” he bits his lips and hides his face into his hands. “I was interested in this case because Craig was my friend.” 

A sympathizing look crosses the inspector’s face. Kyle keeps his face hidden as John Elliot put the pictures back in their place. The sound of shuffling papers is all Kyle can hear for a couple of minutes. He’s sick in the stomach. He got more than what he bargained for. Someone killed Craig, there’s no doubt about it, and considering what Trisha told Stan it might have been a secret lover. If Kenny finds out, he is going to be devastated. 

“Thank you,” the inspector says catching Kyle completely off guard. The redhead slowly lowers his hands and looks at him in complete puzzlement. John Elliot smiles softly at him. “This case’s closed, but I’m glad I had the opportunity to talk about it for one last time with someone who cares. I’ve spoken with this boy’s parents and he was a good kid. He deserved more than this.” 

Kyle’s nausea worsens. 

Wordlessly, Kyle stands up from his chair and the inspector does the same to shake his hand. Kyle’s grip is weak in comparison. John Elliot walks him to the door, and Kyle leaves the police station feeling like a puppet on a string. 

*** 

Kenny can’t afford medicines, so he doesn’t know what to do when he returns home from work and finds Kyle lying on the couch, white as a sheet. He drops his groceries on the floor and crosses the room in two strides to kneel down next to him. 

“Are you okay, dude?” he asks, eyebrows high, and Kyle mumbles in protest when Kenny touches his forehead to check his temperature. 

“I’m not a baby, Kenny, knock it off,” Kyle says, but it doesn’t come out as harsh as he would have liked. Kenny clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“You look like you saw Death herself,” Kenny jokes, and Kyle grumbles. 

“I must have eaten something bad when I went to the library this morning,” Kyle lies. “No big deal.” 

Kenny arches an eyebrow at him in disbelief and tries to check his temperature again, but Kyle slaps his hands away. 

“Fine, be a dick,” Kenny says, standing up. He makes his way back to the door to pick up his plastic shopping bag when a mumbled apology stops him in his tracks. He slowly turns around and stares down at Kyle’s contorted face in wonder. “What did you say?” 

“I’m sorry,” Kyle repeats, louder this time. “I’m not going to be an asshole again. Just bring me a glass of water.” 

Kenny snorts: “I thought you said you weren’t going to be an asshole again, and here you are, bossing me around.” 

“I feel like shit, Kenny,” Kyle whines against the cushions, and Kenny shakes his head in amusement. 

“You were fine yesterday on the rollercoaster. I seriously thought that if _that_ didn’t make you puke, nothing would,” Kenny says making a bee line to one of the cupboards. “Are you sure is not your diabetes or something?” he asks, taking a glass out and filling it with tap water. Kyle slowly props himself in a sitting position behind him, and Kenny almost drops the glass when he turns around and meets Kyle’s fiery gaze. 

Kenny expects Kyle to say something, but the redhead remains perfectly still, staring intensively at him, as if he wants to drill a hole right into his soul. Feeling suddenly very self-conscious, Kenny wills himself to move towards him, letting out a sigh when Kyle finally stirs. The color is back on Kyle’s face, and Kenny hands him the glass of water wondering what was up with him all of a sudden. Their fingers brush slightly. Kyle lowers his head. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, gulping the water in one go. 

“Err…” Kenny furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah…” 

Without looking up, Kyle wraps both hands around his glass and stares pensively at the coffee table in front of him. Kenny doesn’t know what to do with a silent Kyle. Jaw set in determination, the redhead seems ready to fight an army all on his own, but he’s reluctant to make a speech about it first. Kenny can practically see the words he wants to say hanging in the air between them, but he can’t make heads or tails out of them. 

“Anyway.” Kenny hates silent Kyle. “I’ve brought you a book you might like,” he says turning back towards the front door and picking his shopping bag up. He fumbles with it until he finds what he’s searching for and throws a small paperback book in Kyle’s lap. 

Kyle finally puts his glass away and looks at Kenny in surprise. He grins in response. 

“The survival handbook for college?” Kyle asks raising his eyebrows, disbelief written all over his face. “Really?” 

“Considering how much you get stressed out over the silliest things,” Kenny says, sitting down next to him, “I thought it was fitting. Your project, for example, sounds like a lot of fun…” 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Kyle mutters opening his new book to the first page. Seeing that small hint of a smile appearing on Kyle’s lips gives Kenny a true sense of achievement, and his chest puffs out with pride when a bubble of laughter escapes Kyle’s throat. 

“What is this shit,” he mumbles and slowly lies down again without putting the book down. Kenny’s breathe hitches when Kyle rests his head on his lap and stretches his legs. 

“Feel better?” Kenny asks, following Kyle’s eyes skim over the text with his gaze. Kyle humphs. He looks comfortable, and Kenny can’t find the strength to push him away. Kyle is already so absorbed in his new book that doesn’t even flinch when Kenny pulls a magazine from under the coffee table with his feet and bends sideways to pick it up. He might as well do something with his hands. It was very tempting to run his fingers through Kyle’s locks, but he’s sure his friend is not going to react kindly to it. 

He opens to a random page and shoots a glance towards Kyle’s face again. He’s not pale anymore; the freckles on his nose move when he snorts, the dim light coming from the window in front of them cast the shadow of Kyle’s eyelashes on his cheeks. 

The sound of a turning page breaks from time to time the comfortable silence that has formed between them. Kenny focuses on the glossy magazine he doesn’t remember ever buying. The grocery remains abandoned on the floor. With the corner of his eye, Kenny can see that the condensation has formed little drops of water on the milk carton, which slowly stream down onto the cold floor. It can wait. 

Kyle’s breathing is normal. He shakes when he laughs, and Kenny smiles whenever he does too, because it’s a sound he’s familiar with. It’s like being kids again, spending their time in silence reading. He feels a sense of déjà vu when Kyle starts talking about his book, putting particular emphasis on the parts he doesn’t really agree on. 

The grin that stretches across Kenny’s face is completely involuntary. He’s not even aware of the face he’s making until Kyle finally looks up from his book and fixes his green eyes on him. 

“What are you reading?” Kyle asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Kenny is not really looking at the page he’s on, but he stares intently at it anyway, relaxing his muscles to keep his face expressionless. 

“Porn,” he deadpans, laughing internally when Kyle grimaces. 

“Goddammit, Kenny,” Kyle says, “if you pop a boner right here and now I am going to bite it off.” 

“Is that an offer?” Kenny teases, not resisting to temptation. “I’m already half hard from all your wriggling around, so you might as well.” 

“Jesus Christ!” Kyle exclaims, shooting up in a sitting position, suddenly aware of the position he unconsciously put them both into. Kenny throws his head back and laughs, dropping the magazine he is supposedly reading on the floor to hold his aching stomach. Kyle hits his lap with his paperback book, but Kenny is too lost in his own amusement to even notice. 

“Next time warn me first!” Kyle cries, standing up from the couch. 

“You were the one using me like a pillow,” Kenny retorts, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Don’t blame me.” 

“I swear to God,” Kyle says walking around the coffee table to pick the abandoned groceries from the floor. “I’m not Craig and if you really-!” he freezes at the slip of his tongue. “Shit.” 

Kenny snaps his head towards him, all color gone from his face. Kyle has his back turned to him, and Kenny watches him fascinated as he pushes himself to move his legs towards the fridge to put the milk carton away. 

“Craig?” Kenny prods him. For all intent and purposes, Kyle seems ready to disregard the whole matter and pretend that he hasn’t said a word, but Kenny doesn’t have it. He pulls himself up from the couch and repeats Craig’s name, tilting his head when Kyle lets out a shaky breath. 

“Since when…?” Kenny asks. He doesn’t have the strength to form a full sentence, but Kyle understands anyway. 

“I-!” 

If the guttural sound that escapes Kyle’s throat is anything to go by, Kenny understands that Kyle has known for a while. Unexpectedly, Kenny is not angry at him for not mentioning it once. It’s amazing how good it actually feels to have someone _know_. It lifts a burden from the corner of his chest. 

“I didn’t want to pry into your personal life,” Kyle says, finally turning around to face him head on. The defying look on Kyle’s face is hilarious. 

“It’s okay,” Kenny says. “I guess it was a matter of time until you figured it out.” 

“How long have you two been…” Kyle trails off, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Kenny feels a wave of love wash over him at the sight. It’s sudden and perplexing, but it’s nice. The way Kyle shoves his hands under his armpits it’s something that Stan would do, and it’s like having both of his friends back. 

Finally. 

“Two years next month,” Kenny says, shrugging nonchalantly. Kyle averts his gaze when Kenny walks over to him and finally puts the rest his groceries away. “Is this why you’ve been spacing out on me recently?” 

“I did not,” Kyle snaps, and Kenny doesn’t make any attempt to hide his snort. 

“Right,” he grins at him. “So, do you feel better now? I wanted to order pizza for dinner. Are you hungry?” 

Kyle looks completely deflected by Kenny’s sudden change in mood, but he rolls with it, nodding his head once. Kenny smiles at him again, and Kyle wonders for the thousandth time what was really going on in his friend’s head. He wants to ask more about Craig, about the days they spent together, how they started dating and what has been so special about him, but he can’t. It’s not his place and it will probably never be. Under any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have even bothered to be tactful. But Kenny is different. He is not doing okay. 

“You weren’t really reading porn, were you?” Kyle asks instead. 

“No,” Kenny says, shaking slightly with laughter, “but it was fun seeing you so flustered.” 

“I was not-!” Kyle retorts. “Damn it, Kenny. It would have been so fucking gross if-!” 

Kenny tunes him out and reaches for his phone instead. Kyle is a ball of fire bouncing off the walls of his small apartment. He gives off sparks and it’s easy to get burned. 

But for the first time since Kyle barged into the coffee shop he’s working at, Kenny realizes he has missed the guy. The smartest kid he knew. Easy to piss off. An asshole. 

Who finally bothered to see Kenny for who he really was. 

Even if he will never get to the bottom of it. 


	7. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to gloat or anything, but please give me a big round of applause because I managed to update this //sooner// than I'd imagined and fuck if that's not a miracle, I don't know what is. I have no idea if I will ever do this again. Anyway, here you go, enjoy! As always comments, questions and critiques are highly appreciated.

* * *

It’s sudden. 

Scary as a bolt of lightning on a clear day. 

The glass slips through her fingers and crashes to the ground. The sound is deafening. She clams her hands over her ears and falls down to her knees, curling up in a ball to protect herself from whatever is attacking her. The broken glass scraps her already tattered jeans, but she doesn’t feel a thing when it sneaks into her shin and draws blood. 

Carol opens her mouth to call someone. Kevin. Kenny. Karen. Stuart. _Stuart!_ But no sound comes out of her throat. She can’t hear her own voice. There’s just that earsplitting scream in her head. And it aches. (It aches. It aches, it echoes in her head). 

Suddenly, she feels a hand on her shoulder; someone is trying to pull her onto her feet. But her kids are all gone. There is no one in the house but her. Who’s calling her name? 

“Carol! Oh, my God, Carol!” 

Her breathing quickens, and she has difficulty turning her neck towards the source of the voice. Her husband’s eyes flicker around in worry, a drop of sweat trickling down his eyebrow, and she finally realizes that he is holding her bridal style and running out of the door. The sun glares at her. 

If she keeps her eyes tightly shut, she can finally distinguish the noises. The pitiful crying of a newborn baby reverberates inside her brain and it scarily resembles Kenny’s. There’s the sound of a screeching door. The creaking of the old pickup seat as it bends under her light weight. Her rapid heartbeat is by far the loudest. 

“Where’s Kenny…” she mumbles, lifting her hand in search of Stuart. He starts the car before he interlaces their fingers together, and she relaxes. The baby’s cries slowly fade away. 

“We are going to the hospital, right now,” Stuart declares. Carol shakes her head no and opens her eyes to look at him in determination. 

“We can’t afford it,” she says, voice hoarse. Stuart lets go of her hand and grasps the steering wheel instead. There is something wet trickling down the corners of her mouth, and she wipes it off with one thumb. 

“Fuck that!” Stuart barks. “You puked blood all over the living room. We are going to the hospital and that’s final.” 

He pulls into the traffic, and Carol leans her temple against the headrest, letting her eyes wander over the landscape rushing by. She is too tired to put up a fight, and Stuart is not the man she wants to have a conversation with right now. 

She needs Kenny. 

No. 

She needs Craig. 

Craig understands. Craig is capable to listen without cringing. He knows when to draw the line when things get weird, and she needs a guy that doesn’t panic easily. 

And she burst out crying when she remembers that that is not possible anymore. He’s gone forever. 

“Carol?” Stuart asks, his voice laced with worry. “I didn’t mean to shout at you… Carol?” 

Carol sobs and shakes her head; Stuart keeps driving in silence. 

The mountains appear blue in the distance, sharply chiseled against the orange tinted sky. She remembers Craig’s eyes. How beautiful they were. 

They met for the first time under unusual circumstances. 

She had been driving that very pickup all night to reach Kenny’s apartment before the sunrise. She cussed under her breath the whole time, afraid of waking up the baby lying in the back seat.

When Kenny told her he was moving in with a guy, she vehemently protested. It took some convincing before she eventually agreed to the new living arrangements.

Craig was no stranger, and although Carol would have very much preferred that Kenny lived alone, it was nice to know he had someone he trusted by his side. They never met in person, but she vaguely remembered him from the time their whole mountain town went nuts over him dating Tweek when they were barely nine years old.

He grew up to be a handsome man. 

Carol’s first impression of him is a good one. 

The shock on his face as she slowly unlocked the door to Kenny’s apartment in the middle of the night is something she remembers fondly. It had been hard to make a copy of Kenny’s keys without him noticing, and Carol hoped that Craig was not going to get mad that she needed to come and go from their apartment whenever she pleased. 

“Mrs. McCormick!” Craig exclaimed. 

Although there was a hint of moonlight coming through the windows, darkness reigned in the room. She put her finger on her lips, and Craig shut up, drifting his eyes on the tiny bundle she was cradling in her arms. He was wearing nothing but his pajamas bottoms, but he was too focused on the little arms popping out from under the baby blankets to care about his naked torso. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Carol sweetly told him, and Craig willed himself to raise his eyes to her face. She slowly closed the door and tentatively took a step further inside the living room. Craig was glued to the spot, and a worried expression crossed his face when he finally discerned Carol’s distressed look in the darkness. 

“Where’s Kenny?” Craig asked in a whisper watching Carol slowly walking towards him. “I’ve been trying to call him since morning. Is he in South Park? He didn’t come to work today and I’m-!” 

Craig’s breath caught when the bundle in Carol’s arms stirred. He leaned over and hesitantly unfolded a corner of the blanket to peek at the baby. His eyes immediately found Carol’s ones. 

“Craig,” Carol said. “You need to stay calm and listen to me.” 

“Is this what happens when he dies?” Craig whispered, taking her completely off guard. Alarmed, she pressed the baby closer to her chest. “So it is true,” he continued, furrowing his eyebrows at her shocked expression. “He does die.” 

“Kenny told you?” Carol asked. 

“Err…” 

“Kenny actually spoke with you?” she urged him. Her eyes were big and watery, and Craig averted his gaze in embarrassment. 

“Oh, boy,” he muttered and almost jumped in surprise when Carol lifted a hand and wrapped it around Craig’s arm. 

“He never told me anything, and I’m his mother,” she said, holding onto him tightly. Her voice broke with emotion, and Craig shuffled his feet, feeling suddenly small under her thankful smile. 

“May I sit?” Carol asked, letting him finally go. Suddenly remembering his good manners, Craig blurted out an apology and beckoned her to make herself comfortable on the couch. He then walked over to the fridge, poured her a glass of icy cold water and handed it to her. She accepted it gladly, gulping it all down in one go. 

“So Kenny told you that he dies,” Carol started, and Craig nodded once, scratching his arm in embarrassment. “And you didn’t believe him.” 

Craig shook his head no. 

“I couldn’t either,” Carol said, taking him by surprise. “I never remember when he dies. It took me a long, very long time to put two and two together.” 

“What happens exactly?” Craig asked, his dark blue eyes flickering to the baby in Carol’s arms. 

Carol sighed. “I give birth to him again,” she confessed, meeting his gaze. “He grows up in just one night, going back to the form he had before he died.” 

“Holy fuck,” he mumbled and then blushed. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Carol said, letting out an amused snort. “I know this is a lot to digest.” 

“Does Kenny know what happens to him?” Craig asked, and Carol immediately cast her eyes down. 

“No, and I beg you not to tell him,” Carol said. “I want him to live a peaceful life here, as much as he can. He’s got enough problems of his own, and I don't want him to worry about me too.” 

“Is this going to be a thing from now on?” Craig asked, moving his hands back and forth. “Is this why you didn’t want him to leave South Park? Because he-! Shit,” he cussed again and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“If you can’t handle this, I suggest you tell him you don’t want to live together anymore,” Carol said, and Craig snapped his head at her, disbelief written all over his face. 

“I can handle this,” Craig announced. Pursed lips, he slid into the seat next to her. “What do I have to do?” he asked, staring at her right into the eyes. 

“You don’t need to do anything,” Carol protested, and Craig let out a snort. 

“With all due respect,” Craig said, “but neither Kenny nor you can do this all on your own. If you really give birth to him when he dies _and_ you don’t want to tell him, then someone needs to secretly bring him back here from South Park whenever the unthinkable happens. You look tired, Mrs. McCormick. I guess I can share the burden. I’ll meet you halfway, if you don’t want me to come all the way to your house.” 

Carol stared at him for a long, silent moment, and Craig held her gaze, his face completely impassive. She couldn’t read him at all, but at the same time she knew he was being absolutely serious about this. 

“Why?” she asked. Her eyes roamed restlessly over his face, searching for a sign that Craig was going to bail on Kenny eventually. She found none. 

“I love him,” Craig said, voice low. He leaned back, putting as much distance as possible between the two of them. “It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love me back,” he continued. “He-!” Craig hesitated. “I saw him in pain, Mrs. McCormick. He doesn’t deserve this.” 

“Alright,” she whispered, reaching out for his hand and clutching his fingers reassuringly. Craig heaved a sigh.

“So…” Craig whispered. 

“I guess I should start from the beginning,” Carol said, “when Stuart and I joined the cult of Cthulhu.” 

“I don’t care,” Craig cut her off. “I’m only interested in what happens to Kenny.” 

“Fair enough, but I can’t tell you much about it,” Carol said. “Sometimes I even forget I gave birth to him in the morning. Things are always hazy when Kenny is concerned, but it became easier with time. In the beginning, I honestly thought I was giving birth to different babies and it took me years to actually realize it’s always Kenny.” 

Craig carefully listened to her. 

“I wonder how many times I mourned him so far,” Carol continued, her gaze setting on the coffee table in front of her. “There are times I search for him all day long, and then my belly starts getting bigger and I _know_ something happened to him again. At first, I didn’t want to believe he actually dies. It was painful to think that I couldn’t remember. I am his mother, goddammit, and yet there was no other explanation for it. For years I searched in the library for something that could clue me in on what’s happening to us. I spoke with Cthulhu cult’s members too, but there is nothing that could shed light on this whole story. We simply forget he dies,” Carol said, turning her head to face Craig again, “and he is reborn again through me.” 

Craig nodded, and Carol felt free to continue. 

“This is why I didn’t want him to follow Kevin and Karen to Harrisburg,” she said. “I can’t pull it off if he’s living far away. This city, on the other hand, is perfect. I simply drive all night to his home and tuck him to bed. It’s exhausting, sure, but it worked so far.” 

“How many times did you do this?” Craig asked. 

“You mean how many times I brought him here? Fifteen,” she said, smiling bitterly at him. “I lost count of the times I gave birth to him.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “This is unbelievable.” 

They both looked down at Kenny, who had grown five inches taller since they started talking. Carol knew that he was going to look like a ten years old child in the next half an hour. By the end of the night Kenny was going to be a young adult again.

“Maybe we should put him to bed,” Carol said, standing up. Craig followed suit and walked her to the bedroom, where she gently laid Kenny down on the king-sized bed. Blue eyes watched her every move, and Carol smiled reassuringly at him. 

“Why can’t we remember him dying?” Craig asked when Carol walked back to him. 

“Maybe it’s easier this way,” she said, but Craig didn’t look convinced in the least. 

“You can crash here if you are tired,” Craig said motioning to the bed. Carol shook her head no. 

“I’m going back home,” she said and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. 

“I’ll take care of him,” Craig promised her. 

(And yet.) 

Hours later, Craig called her to tell her Kenny was back to normal again. He laughed when he recalled Kenny’s words when he walked out of their room while he was making pancakes in the kitchen: 

_"I died yesterday, what’s for breakfast?"_

Craig’s laughter was contagious. 

Carol finally knew that he could trust him. Craig was going to be there, if Carol needed someone to talk to. 

But he’s not there anymore, is he? 

Craig is not there to cover for her anymore, is he? 

She needs to tell the truth to Kenny. 

She needs to finally confront him about it. 

Before— 

“We are here,” Stuart says, pushing her out of her thoughts. The hospital resembles a mortuary, and the nurse that runs to help Stuart out is no one but the undertaker himself. 

* * *

Kyle doesn’t expect to be so nervous, but he is. The doorbell rings, and he shoots a worried glance at Kenny, who looks up from the NASCAR magazine he’s reading in surprise. Kyle fiddles with his spatula a moment longer, before he finally slams it down on the counter, wipes his hands on his jeans and makes a bee line to the door. 

He is trying to make latkes like his mother taught him to, because he is sick and tired of living off of frozen food and delivery. Nevertheless, he is not doing a good job with it. He makes a mess on the kitchen’s wall when he tries to shred the potatoes with the food processor and burns the first two latkes when he starts frying the batch. Kenny offers to help, but it’s a war between Kyle and the latkes, and Kyle aims to win this on his own. 

The doorbell rings again. 

Kyle feels Kenny’s eyes on his back as he finally opens the door. He doesn’t dare to look at Kenny’s facial expression when Stan’s head pops out from behind it. 

“If Cartman is with you, you are not allowed to come in,” Kyle says, pushing Stan away to peek out into the hallway. Kenny snorts. 

“Relax, dude,” Stan says stepping inside. “He’s too invested in his new business to give a damn about us. Whoa, Kyle, this place stinks of burned farts!” 

Kenny bursts out laughing: “Kyle is trying to be a master chef and failing.” 

Stan’s eyes immediately snap to Kenny sprawled on the couch, and Kenny's smile freezes on his lips. Kyle’s gaze flicker between the two and he rushes to close the door before Kenny can make a run for it. 

“Kenny,” Stan whispers in amazement, and dread flashes across Kenny’s face before he replaces it with a wide grin. 

“Like what you see?” he teases. He slowly stands up from the couch and struts towards them, throwing an amused glance at Kyle as he did so. The redhead rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Kenny looks like he wants to use humor to defuse the sudden tension, but whatever comment he comes up with dies in his throat when Stan walks up to him in two strides and pulls him into a bone crushing hug. 

“Kenny, you fucking bastard!” Stan exclaims, and Kenny’s breathe catches. He frenziedly pats Stan on the back, and Kyle runs to them when Kenny’s face turns a light blue. 

“You’re going to kill him, Stan,” Kyle reproaches grabbing Stan by the shoulders. Kenny lets out a sigh of relief the moment Stan’s hold on him relaxes. 

“Dude, we were worried sick!” Stan exclaims, taking a big step backwards when he finally realizes what he’s done. He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a look around, scrunching his nose at the burned latkes on the kitchen counter. The table is buried under stacks of paper and books Kyle is using for his project. On the other side of the room, Kenny and Kyle’s unwashed laundry is piled up in a corner. Kenny’s playboys are used as coasters on the coffee table. A Hello Kitty doll waves at him from her place above the fridge. 

Kyle has no idea what is going through his friend’s mind and he follows Stan’s gaze, trying to understand what has caught his attention. Absentmindedly, Kenny takes a step closer to him, and Stan arches an eyebrow at them both. 

“How long have you’ve been staying here again?” Stan asks, looking at Kyle. 

“Just three or four days, why?” Kyle replies. 

“It looks much longer than that,” Stan mutters, and Kenny snickers. 

“Kyle takes up a lot of space,” he says. 

“I do not!” Kyle exclaims, affronted. Kenny's gaze flickers between the redhead and the table, and Kyle groans: “That doesn’t count! Where I am supposed to work? On the floor?” 

“Dude, do you really need all that books for that stupid project?” Stan asks walking towards said table and peeking at Kyle’s notes. 

“Don’t touch them,” Kenny warns him. “If you mess up with them he’s going to kick you in the nuts. I should _know_.” 

“That didn’t even count as a kick!” Kyle exclaims, and Stan lets out an amused snort. He looks up towards Kenny and Kyle again and a smile stretches across his lips when he sees the way Kenny laughs at Kyle’s indignation. He lets his eyes scan over the room again, searching for a sign of Craig’s existence, but finds none. If Kyle and Trisha hadn’t talked to him about it, Stan would have never guessed Kenny and Craig had been a thing at one point in time. 

And Kenny too doesn’t look like a guy coping with grief and loss. 

Let alone suicidal thoughts. 

“Stan?” 

It takes Stan a while to realize Kenny is talking to him. 

“What?” he asks, blinking stupidly. 

“My apartment is not that big,” Kenny says again, smirking at him as if he could read Stan’s thoughts, “but if you plan to stay as long as Kyle does, you can-!”

“Thanks, dude, but I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Stan interrupts him. “I’m leaving tomorrow evening, after the NASCAR race.” 

“You promised me you would stay longer!” Kyle exclaims, shooting an eloquent look at him, but Stan averts his eyes. 

“Can’t do,” Stan says. “I need to be back to work on Monday.” 

“You two can share the bed for a night,” Kenny says. “It would be like a dream come true, right, Kyle?” 

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Kyle asks, but his upcoming rant is cut short when he sees the absolutely appalled expression on Stan’s face. 

“Dude,” Stan whispers. “I don’t want that.” 

“What?” Kyle asks, taken aback. 

“I’ll take the couch, no big deal,” Stan frets, blushing madly when Kenny and Kyle both tilt their heads in confusion. 

“What?” Kyle asks again, and Stan’s shuffles his feet. 

“Dude,” he hisses, gesticulating wildly at Kenny. “ _They_ slept in that bed, I-!” 

A look of understanding finally crosses Kyle’s face, but Stan is suddenly aware he should have kept his mouth shut. 

Tilting his head to the side, Kenny's eyebrows quirk up in bemusement, while a sigh escapes Kyle's lips as he starts massaging his temples in a circular motion. 

“I’m right here. I can hear you,” Kenny says. The corners of his mouth stretch upwards, and Kenny licks his bottom lip as if he were trying to hide the huge grin that is slowly coming onto his face. “You like to talk about me a lot, don’t you, Kyle?” he asks, directing his attention to the redhead. Kenny raises one eyebrow suggestively, and Kyle hates how his face flushes in response. “I’m flattered, but, seriously?” 

To say Stan feels awkward watching how the two interact would be huge understatement. He scratches the back of his neck and prays that Kenny is not going to make this even worse, but the blond is not done with them yet. 

"Fine, as you wish. It would be my greatest pleasure to have your arms wrapped around me tonight, Kyle,” Kenny says, obviously enjoying this immensely. “But I don’t mind threesomes, just so you know,” he adds, winking at Stan. 

If that’s Kenny’s idea of getting payback, Stan is not going to piss him off, ever. 

“Jesus Christ,” Stan exclaims, pinching his nose, and Kenny bursts out laughing. 

Kyle shakes his head in disbelief and mutters something under his breath, passing by Stan as he makes his way back to his latkes again. Scowl deep, he lifts a burned one with two fingers and tosses it in the garbage. 

"You should just call for delivery," Stan says and Kyle glares at him. 

"I can do this, Stan," he hisses, turning on the gas stove once more.Stan throws his arms in the air, palms up, and wordlessly walks backwards to his blond friend. Still wiping a fake tear from his eye, Kenny sinks into his seat on the couch and picks up his NASCAR magazine again. Stan wonders if it would be alright to sit down next to him as if nothing has happened. Sky blue eyes find his own, and Stan has no idea what to do. All in all, Kenny's dirty jokes and Kyle's outbursts are much better conversation openers than awkward silence. 

Four years apart is not a long time, all things considered, but it would be easier to talk to him if Stan didn't know Kenny has avoided his friends on purpose. 

"Just sit down, Stan," Kyle tells him and Stan does. A glint of amusement appears in Kenny's eyes and Stan doesn't know how to deal with it. This would be _definitely_ easier if Stan just stopped picturing Kenny attempting suicide. 

"He got bossier over the years, didn't he?" Kenny says, and Stan doesn't know how to decipher the way Kenny momentarily looks over to Kyle at that. 

"Is beyond me how you didn't kick him out yet," Stan replies. 

"What can I say," Kenny grins, "I'm a masochist." 

"I guess you are, since you decided to work in a coffee shop," Stan tries to joke. It's a corny joke but it makes Kenny's tight shoulders relax considerably. 

"It's not that bad," Kenny says. "Not when I get hit on by pretty chicks." 

Stan wonders if he should bring up Craig in the conversation, but decides against it. Kyle is the one with the questions; he just goes with the flow. If Kenny doesn't want to bring him up, he won't either. 

So he does the most sensible thing and starts talking about his job at the repair shop instead, bitching about how his dad wants his car checked for free every two days. Kenny seems relieved at his choice of topic, and it's not long before Kyle jumps into the conversation too. Stan's dad reminds them all what a shitty town South Park is, and soon enough they start talking about their past classmates too. Beer loosens their tongues. It's cool that Cartman is not there with them, because they can bond over Cartman being an asshole and ruthlessly rip on him without hesitation. Had he been there, they would have called it a night as soon as Kyle got into a fistfight with him. What they end up doing instead is eating half-burned latkes and drink beer straight from the can sitting on the floor around the coffee table. Against expectation, the latkes taste good, even if they aren't quite as tasty as the ones Sheila Broflovski makes. 

And what's more, Kenny looks happy. 

There is a lively and easygoing tone to his laughter, and he beams whenever Kyle talks directly to him. If Stan hadn't been studying Kenny's facial expressions as keenly as he is, Kenny's cheerfulness would have fooled him. Kyle is too caught up in his long-winded speeches and talking trash about Cartman to pay close attention to what Kenny is doing. But Stan is trying so hard to see if there is something wrong with him, he manages to see _it_.

The thing that Stan soon discovers is that Kenny's eyes glaze over when he thinks no one is looking at him. His lips twitch downwards, his head slightly slouches forwards and he momentarily looks completely lost, as if he doesn't know if he is supposed to stay or just leave. It's a blink and you'll miss it moment, but Stan manages to catch him in the act more than once. 

But that's not all. Kenny brightens up immediately when Kyle asks a question, especially if it's directed at him. If Kyle moves closer to him, Kenny absentmindedly leans towards him, like a sunflower turning towards the sun. 

Stan doesn't know what to do with that information. 

For a moment he wonders if he should have accepted to sleep in Craig and Kenny's bed, no matter how disturbing such a prospect sounds. 

Be that as it may, it's too late to do anything about it now, and when the time comes and Stan is simply too drunk to see straight, he just plops down on the couch and falls asleep in his clothes. 

Kenny and Kyle, on the other hand, take their time with it. 

"I'm actually glad that Stan doesn't want to sleep here," Kenny says jumping into bed and hugging his pillow. "I missed my spot." 

"You're such an idiot," Kyle says, sitting down on the bed. "You could have told me and I would have slept on the couch instead." 

"I am a well-behaved kid," Kenny says, "and guests don't sleep on hard surfaces where I'm from." 

"Shut up, we're both from the same town," Kyle says. "I know that's not true." 

Kenny moves so that he rests on his stomach and lets out a contented sigh. Glancing down at him, Kyle hesitates. Kenny's off-handed comment about missing his spot makes him suddenly very aware that he is going to lay down where Craig used to sleep. Since he had been sleeping in that very same bed for the past couple of nights, the thought shouldn't disturb him at all, not anymore at least, but it does. 

Lost in thought, he doesn't realize that Kenny is watching him and he lets out a yelp when Kenny grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him down. 

"Relax, it's just me," Kenny says, snickering. Kyle playfully slaps his hand away and tries to make himself comfortable, facing Kenny laying on his hands next to him. The insult that Kyle wants to throw his way dies in his throat. Kenny's blond hair sticks out around his head like a halo, and Kyle fights against the urge to run a hand through it and comb it sideways. There is the hint of a smile on Kenny's lips, and Kyle stares, takes it in, imprints it to memory. 

"Will you let me be the big spoon?" Kenny teases. "I want to know what it feels like to have your fantastic ass against me." 

"I've never really understood what the deal with my ass is," Kyle says instead. 

"That's because you can't see yourself walking," Kenny retorts and smirks when Kyle rolls his eyes. 

"If you don't knock it off right now, I'll kick you off the bed," Kyle says, reaching out for the blankets and covering them both up. Kenny hums and closes his eyes. The smell of alcohol is intoxicating, but Kyle knows that he has drunk less than either Stan or Kyle. 

"Stan seemed a little bit uncomfortable, wasn't he?" Kenny asks, taking Kyle completely by surprise. 

"Can you blame him?" Kyle says. "You started talking about threesomes and whatnot." 

Kenny slightly laughs. His eyes are still closed, and Kyle gazes at him without worrying about Kenny making an inappropriate comment about it.

Craig was lucky to fall asleep to such a sight every night. 

"Stan missed you," Kyle says, trying to think of something else that isn't Craig or Kenny's eyelashes. 

"I could tell," Kenny drawls. Kyle remains silent and waits until Kenny finally abandons himself to sleep. 

"I missed you a lot too," Kyle whispers. Kenny's breathing is all he gets in reply, and Kyle smiles at the serene expression on the other's face. It's easier to fall asleep after that. 


	8. Chapter 6

The car is driving slowly over the asphalt. Kenny knows they are going faster than what it looks like. In his mind, they are going at cruise speed. 

In reality, they are not. 

The man sitting in the passenger's seat is hanging his hand out of the window, playing with the airflow. Kenny can't hear him, but he knows he is talking about basketball. The fact that Craig could have been an athlete crosses Kenny's mind. He's always been very talented in sports, but against all expectation he chose to go to law school instead. 

Wait a moment.

That doesn't sound right. 

He keeps on driving. He has a churning feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nausea. Dread. He’s suddenly on edge. He breathes in. No air comes in his lungs, and he knows he won’t be able to breathe until he takes a glance at the man sitting right next to him. 

He tries to move his head but it’s impossible. 

There is a guy sitting next to him, but Kenny can’t see his face. Not even with the corner of his eye. He strains and he sweats but nothing. Whoever it is, he is nothing but a blur. 

Surely, this is Craig. He likes to hang his hand out of the window and play with the airflow. Kenny can't hear his voice, but he is talking about-! 

About…. 

No. This is not Craig. 

The car suddenly speeds up. In a blink of an eye, they- he’s driving sixty miles per hour. 

There is a flash of red in his peripheral vision. Curly strands of hair that glow orange under the sunlight. His chest tightens; Kenny slams on the brakes but his foot just goes right through it. A scent Kenny recognizes all too quickly fills his senses. This is what he comes home to. His clothes are already impregnated with it and he has no intention to wash it off. 

His heart threatens to burst out of his chest. 

His hands are paralyzed. Muscles tense, all he can see is the truck ahead of him, coming closer. Cracks in the window. Blood on the steering wheel. He blinks and it’s gone. He blinks and he knows what’s bound to happen. 

No! 

It doesn’t need to happen. 

He needs to stop the car. Right now. 

He’s stuck with a stranger in Craig’s car. No. This is not Craig’s car. This is not Craig. No, he’s not Craig. Kyle _can’t_ be Craig. 

Sweat trails down his temples. He tries to slow down, hits the brakes with his foot, tries to rip his hands off of the steering wheel to reach out for Kyle. Nothing. Nothing. _Nothing!_ He shouts a warning, but no sound comes out of his throat. The man next to him has his attention focused on the landscape racing by. There's a baby crying loudly in the backseat. Stop the car, it seems to say. Stop the car. Stop the car. Stop the car! 

Take me instead. 

This time, take me instead of him. 

Before we crash. Before we-! 

_"Kenny!"_

Kenny breaths in. Green eyes find scared blue. His dream floats on the surface of his consciousness and sinks into oblivion. 

"Oh, my God, Kenny," Kyle whispers, delicately stroking the top of his head. "You stopped breathing for a sec." 

Kenny furrows his eyebrows in confusion. What is Kyle doing there? Surely this is his room, right? Kyle is not supposed to be in his room and in his bed no less. He slowly moves his neck and lets his eyes explore his surroundings. It takes him a little bit of time to adjust to the dark, but when he does he is surprised to see this is indeed his room. No doubt about it. 

Right?

Take those ugly window curtains, for instance. They belonged to the previous owner, who died of old age, all alone in this rat hole. Kenny knows because it _is_ his room. When they moved in together, Craig said that the flat stank of pee and Jell-Os. Kenny said that Jell-O doesn’t leave any lingering smell behind, but then Craig found a whole stack hidden in one of the cupboards and Kenny called him a sniffer dog to hide his amazement. 

He should get rid of those curtains. Craig never liked them, anyway. Why haven't they replaced them yet is beyond him.

"Kenny, are you okay?" Kyle asks, and Kenny wills himself to drift his eyes on him. Something in Kenny’s face must have triggered something because Kyle rips his hands immediately away as if burned. 

The redhead casts his eyes down, and Kenny wonders if he is still dreaming. Kyle is not supposed to be there and he is not the kind of guy who would stroke his hair while he is having a breakdown, is he? 

Is he having a breakdown? 

He's not sure. His soul, his mind, his will to live have not woken up yet. 

"Just a bad dream, Ky," Kenny reassures him. His voice sounds tired even to his own ears. A huge, rotten hand is trying to squeeze his lungs out of his body, and his throat feels dry and itchy. He should stop thinking about Craig. He should stop thinking, period. He should just surrender himself to darkness again. 

Forever would be nice. 

"What time is it?" Kenny croaks. Kyle's presence next to him makes him extremely uncomfortable, and he looks away; pretends to search for Craig’s old alarm clock just to stop feeling ashamed under Kyle’s inquiring stare. What for? He doesn't know. Kyle's rapid breathing is all Kenny needs to realize his friend is angry at him. If the way Kyle compresses his lips into a hard, thin line is anything to go by, Kenny must have said something extremely awkward in his sleep. Was it Craig’s name? Hopefully not. 

Let’s start from the beginning. There was a car and and... damn it. He can’t remember.

If Kyle hadn't been there, Kenny would have gone back to sleep already, back to Craig being alive and well. 

Happy. 

"It's not even three in the morning," Kyle replies, pushing Kenny out of his thoughts. 

"It's too freaking early to look so angry, Ky," Kenny says, making himself comfortable again. His eyes are wide open; his body is burning from the inside out. 

"I'm not angry," Kyle says, softening his tone. Kenny keeps his gaze on the ceiling. "You just scared the shit out of me. You weren't breathing anymore." 

Kenny hears the mattress creak under Kyle's weight as he lies back down and scoots further away from him. Kenny wonders why he feels so cold all of a sudden. Will it be awkward to ask Kyle to hold his hand or pet him again? Kyle would probably get angrier at him. What did Kenny say, anyway? 

"I'm sorry," Kenny whispers in the dark. 

"You don't even know what you're sorry for," Kyle says and the hint of amusement in his voice reassures Kenny greatly. "Just go back to sleep." 

"Hmm..." Kenny hums and bits his lips. He fidgets, closes his eyes, opens them once again. He restlessly searches for a good sleeping position but nothing satisfies him. It’s a wonder how Kyle hasn’t snapped at him yet. 

When he checks on him, he sees that Kyle has his back turned to him. 

On the spur of the moment, Kenny turns around and wraps his arms around Kyle's body. The redhead tenses at the sudden contact but relaxes when Kenny presses his forehead between his shoulder blades and heaves a sigh of relief. 

Somewhere inside of Kenny a light flickers on. It's warm, comforting even. Kyle's shoulders move up and down following his breathing, and Kenny closes his eyes, enjoying the bliss of silence. This is not right. Kyle is going to give him hell for being so tactile with him, but it feels good. It's a wonder why Kyle hasn't pushed him away yet. If Kenny didn't know any better, he would swear he's actually moving closer. 

"I know I'm not Craig," Kyle whispers, hesitant. "I'm not trying to take his place, you know that, right?" 

Kenny can’t make head or tails of Kyle's words, so he lets it go. Darkness nips the corners of his consciousness. His hands find Kyle's knuckles, but neither of them dares to intertwine their fingers together. Kenny is content with the little contact they already have. 

"Sleep," Kyle says.

"Yes, sure thing," Kenny replies. Reassured by Kyle breathing next to him, cradled by the life emanating from the body next to his, Kenny finally abandons himself to a dreamless sleep. 

When morning finds them, they haven't moved an inch. 

Kyle is the first to wake up. His legs and arms are a little bit sore. He usually moves a lot when he sleeps, but this time his unconscious refused to disturb Kenny lying next to him. 

He carefully untangles himself from Kenny's desperate grip before he slips out of bed, trying to make as less noise as physically possible. The sound of shuffling feet tells him that Stan is already up and hangover, and Kyle slowly steps into the living room, raising an index to his lips the moment Stan opens his mouth to greet him. 

Stan’s eyes flicker to the room behind him and nods in understanding. 

"Where's the coffee?" Stan mouths as Kyle softly closes Kenny’s door. 

"The cupboard to your right," Kyle says. 

"Rough night?" Stan asks, yawning loudly, and makes a bee line to the coffee maker. "I feel like shit." 

"Kenny is going to be the end of me," Kyle says walking to the table. Kenny is right. His things do take up a lot of place. Stan arches an eyebrow at him, and Kyle adds: "I have no idea what's going through his mind. One moment he looks happy, the next he's crying: 'You are not Craig' and 'stop!' in his sleep. Does that make any sense to you? Because to me it doesn't, goddamnit, and I don't know what to do." 

"He said what?" Stan asks, completely taken aback. 

"Don't make me repeat myself, Stan," Kyle snaps. "It's already awkward as it is." 

"Fuck," Stan mutters under his breath. "Do you think he feels guilty or something?" he asks. 

"What for?" Kyle asks, raising his gaze from the table. Stan fidgets with the empty cup he's holding and shrugs. 

"I dunno," Stan drawls. Kyle can see this conversation is making Stan uncomfortable, but doesn't understand why until his friend finally makes up his mind and says: "He was hitting on you pretty bad yesterday, so I don't know. He might feel-!" 

"What?" Kyle cries. They both snap their heads towards Kenny's closed door and wait a couple of minutes before they resume their conversation. 

"That's ridiculous," Kyle affirms and starts cleaning up the table from his notes and books. Stan scratches the tip of his nose, and Kyle’s mouth drops open in disbelief. 

"Kenny is not hitting on me." 

Stan doesn't look all that convinced. 

"He's always been flirty, Stan," Kyle announces, rolling his eyes. "It doesn't mean anything." 

"Hmm... probably," Stan dismisses him. 

Irritated, Kyle pushes his books and notes away to the corner of the table and plops down in the chair with his arms crossed high over his chest. Stan fumbles with the coffee machine, and Kyle narrows his gaze at the Hello Kitty sitting above the fridge, as if that stupid doll had the answer to all of his questions. Is Kenny flirting with him? Seriously? Is that why he said those things in his sleep? Maybe he’s just lonely and wants someone to fool around like he did with Craig. Kenny likes to tease Kyle, but going as far as to hit on him? It doesn’t sound right. 

"Why would he?" Kyle asks, and Stan sighs as if he wants nothing more than turn back time and kill himself in his sleep. "I don't see how he would be interested in me." 

And Kyle would know, right? Kyle knows the difference between teasing and flirting. Kenny considers Kyle as his friend. That’s all there is to it. 

Although it would be a lie if Kyle said this doesn’t flatter him a little. 

"Do you want some coffee?" Stan asks. The burbling sound and the strong smell of caffeine take Kyle back to reality. 

"Do you think he knows Craig cheated on him?" Kyle asks. 

"Please, Kyle," Stan groans, "I have like, this massive headache right now and I'm ready to puke my intestines out at any moment. I really don't want to think about Craig and Kenny or you and Kenny or whatever." 

"I'm starting to believe he knew," Kyle says, ignoring Stan completely. He throws a glance over his shoulder to the closed door and falls silent again, much to Stan's relief. Kyle gladly accepts the steaming mug Stan hands to him, and Stan sinks down in the chair across Kyle’s with a pained sigh. 

"We never paid much attention to him, did we?" Kyle asks, breaking the silence, and Stan buries his head in his arms. "When I bumped into him at the coffee shop, he looked like I had just punched his teeth in, I shit you not. That would be understandable if it were Cartman, but not me. He still treats me like a stranger sometimes. No matter how much he jokes and flirts,” he adds, emphasizing the last word with quotation marks, “it sure feels like he would rather have Craig here instead of us," Kyle says, bitter. "I don't blame him, really. Craig has been an important part of his life apparently, even when I don't understand how these two could ever be a thing." 

A sound of agreement escapes Stan's throat. 

"But somehow that doesn't bother me at all," Kyle says. "We already knew Craig was a fag, while Kenny likes what he likes. All things considered it shouldn't be that surprising, but-!" 

"But?" Stan asks, sneaking a peek out from behind his arms. 

"The thing is," Kyle hesitates, "I don't like the thought of Craig fucking Tucker paying more attention to him than all of his friends put together. We’ve known each other for years, and yet Kenny just wanted out. Has Kenny ever complained about us? I don't think he ever did, but even then I should have seen that something was wrong, I-!" 

"I don't understand why you feel guilty," Stan interrupts him. "You've always been interested in Kenny's whereabouts." 

"But that wasn't enough, was it, Stan?" Kyle asks. "Did he really want to put an end to his life? Tricia said he did. Craig fucking knew he tried, and I can't tell. I look at him and I can't see shit." 

"Kyle, calm down," Stan begs, reaching out for his hand and holding it in his. 

"And that motherfucker cheated on him and got murdered," Kyle continues. "And that’s so fucked up! The only person Kenny apparently opened up to was Craig and that... that's not fair, goddamnit!" 

"Calm down," Stan repeats, louder this time, and Kyle clamps his mouth shut. He finally realizes he's on the verge of tears and he brings the mug to his lips to avoid Stan's worried look. The coffee slightly burns his tongue, but he doesn’t care. The burning sensation in his stomach hurts much more. 

Stan holds his hand tightly until his breathing is back to normal again. Nevertheless, the minutes tick by and Kyle is still fighting against the urge to flip the table and scream. It’s only when Kenny finally opens his door that Kyle finally manages to get a grip on himself. The world –Kyle’s world- shifts.

“Holding hands, how cute,” Kenny says, rubbing his tired eyes. Kyle immediately lets go of Stan’s hand and shoots up from his seat, almost spilling the remnants of his coffee in the process. The same puzzled expression flashes across Stan and Kenny’s faces as Kyle frenziedly paces around in the kitchen. 

“Are you hungry, Kenny?” Kyle asks without looking up. “I sure am.” 

Kyle opens the freezer, takes some frozen waffles out, angrily tears the packaging apart and slides two of them into the toaster. Kenny arches an eyebrow at Stan, but his friend just shrugs his shoulders and mumbles something incomprehensible under his breath. 

To say Kenny is impressed by the scene unfolding in front of him would be a huge understatement. He’s being catapulted into another world. There is no way Kyle is doing this for himself. He’s setting the table, pouring coffee and piling up the hot waffles on a platter just for Kenny. His heart beats faster and faster at the thought that he’s missing something here, something huge. Stan avoids his gaze; Kyle just puts everything on the table and sits down as if nothing is the matter. 

He would bet one hundred bucks that they have been talking about him while he was still sleeping. 

Kyle has always worn his heart on his sleeve. For Kenny, figuring out what he’s thinking is child’s play. 

And right now Kyle is thinking of _him_ , no doubt about it. 

Kenny suppresses the grin that is slowly coming onto his face and hurries to the bathroom hoping that his friends won’t notice the little skip in his step. When he walks back into the kitchen a few minutes later, Stan and Kyle are in the exact same spots he has left them in. 

Lost in thought, Kyle almost slips off his chair, when Kenny gracefully sits down next to him and flashes him a toothy grin. He looks so different from the guy that has almost given Kyle a heart attack in the middle of the night. His smile is bright; his eyes are twinkling with mischief, his whole being emanates optimism and life. Life and death, Kyle reminds himself. Kenny reeks of both, and it scares the living shit out of him. It’s difficult to wrap his head around it. 

All he can do is stare. 

It’s Kenny who breaks the silence first. 

“You look like shit,” Kenny tells Stan. Kyle’s eyes flicker to Stan’s hangover face before he reverts his attention back to Kenny, who is now grabbing a hot waffle with his hand. 

Kyle is not inconspicuous about it. Kenny can feel Kyle’s gaze on his back and he even catches him admiring the curve of his neck with the corner of his eyes. Surprisingly, Kenny likes the look-over his friend is giving him. 

“I feel like shit,” Stan replies. 

Kyle fidgets in his seat. Kenny can’t resist. He scoots closer to him and tugs his pajama shirt to show off his collarbone. 

“We are going to the NASCAR race, whether you feel like shit or not,” Kyle says. His voice breaks mid-sentence, and Kenny lets go of his shirt to grab another waffle instead. Stan scrunches his nose at them both. 

“A few painkillers and he’s as good as new,” Kenny says. 

“Thank you, Kenny,” Stan says. 

“You better be, Stan,” Kyle says. “I already bought the tickets, so we have to go.” 

Kenny agrees. 

Wow. A NASCAR race, he thinks. 

That’s another of Kyle’s gifts for him. 

Kenny is going to a NASCAR race thanks to him. Kyle. 

“Fuck, this is going to be awesome,” Kenny mutters, feeling the excitement pouring out from every pore of his body. His hands are clammy. Every time he steals a glance of Kyle, he gets a knot in the stomach. 

The fascinated look in Kyle’s eyes is touching. He finally realizes that showing some collarbone and flashing a big, disarming smile was a really bad attempt at a joke. He should stop that, no matter how tempting it is to see Kyle fidget. 

Ah, temptation. 

Is it bad he likes Kyle gaping at him? 

When does a joke stops being a joke? 

Probably when you look at your friend, who has never been the most attractive guy in your social circle, and think he’s fucking gorgeous. 

Kenny wonders what he’s going to do once Kyle goes back to his own life. 

He wants him to stay there with him forever. 

Stan awkward coughing is his clue to focus on his breakfast again. 

“Yes, it’s going to be awesome,” Kyle mutters. Kenny is not hungry anymore. 

“I think I’ll take up on your offer,” Stan says. “Where do you keep the painkillers?” he asks, pushing himself away from the table. 

Kenny shoots up from his place before Stan can. He’s glad to have something to do with his hands. It’s becoming terribly difficult to keep them to himself and not reach out for Kyle. 

Kyle watches him. 

Kenny’s excitement is palpable, and Kyle almost pats himself on the back for his great idea. He could have taken Kenny everywhere, but nothing could beat a NASCAR race. 

After a couple of painkillers and another mug of steaming coffee, Stan too looks like a kid on Christmas’ Eve. Kyle would be lying if he said he is interested in watching cars race round and round. He doesn’t even understand the rules, if there are any. He just knows that the first car to get checkered flags wins, but that’s about it. He would much prefer to go to a football or a basketball match, but since he is not doing it for himself, he keeps his mouth shut. 

Kenny is all that matters. If he’s happy, Kyle’s happy. 

Even when they finally make it to the motor racing venue, surrounded by different types of body odors and stale beer, Kyle is glad to be there. The drivers prepare to battle for the lead on the track in front of them. Fans cheer and whistle whenever a woman walks around showing off her cleavage. 

And Kyle cannot tear his eyes off of Kenny. 

The voice coming from the speakers is definitely from Michigan. Engines roar. Stan shouts something at him, but Kyle can’t hear him. 

Kyle tilts his head, but the world is too loud. 

He shakes his head at Stan, who makes wild gestures with his hands, and catches Kenny looking at him instead. 

A small smile stretches across Kenny’s lips. 

Kyle’s expression softens. 

“Thank you,” Kenny mouths. The fans shout loudly, covering Kenny’s voice, muffling it, like his parka did when he was younger. A wave of nostalgia swallows Kyle whole. He remembers that smile. That light in his eyes. 

Finally. 

Kyle has been searching for him for so long and now here he is. 

Kenny. 


	9. Chapter 7

Steading the cigarette dangling between his lips, Stuart rolls his eyes at the redheaded man standing still in front of him. He takes a drag and puffs the smoke right into the other’s face, hoping that the guy is going to take his clue and leave him finally alone. 

Thomas Tucker, however, remains unmoving. Only his left eye twitches at the offensive, eye-watering smell. 

The last rays of the sun highlight his plump silhouette, and Stuart raises his hand to shade his eyes with an irritated huff. Squinting at the sun directly hitting on his face, Stuart nonchalantly leans back against the bench he’s sitting on and rests his arm on the curved back. 

An ambulance sounds in the distance, and a man in a white suit walks quickly by, sending a haughty glance at the two men staring each other down in front of the hospital’s cafeteria.

“This is not the time, Tucker,” Stuart says when Thomas coughs to get his attention. 

“You must tell me,” Thomas says. “You know things no one else wants to speak out loud. If there is any way we can-!” 

“My wife is dying in there!” Stuart interrupts him, pointing his cigarette at the building behind them. Thomas snaps his mouth shut, but the defiant look Stuart has grown to hate is still on his face, a clear sign he is not going to give up any soon. Fingers shaking, Stuart takes another drag. He should have kept his mouth shut and let Thomas and Laura go on with their lives, let them keep visiting the cemetery every afternoon at four o’clock sharp to feel a little bit better with themselves. 

Pathetic. 

“So get your ass out of my sight before I punch you in the face,” Stuart continues. 

“You suggested this,” Thomas says. “Now spill the beans before-!”

“I fucking don’t know how, okay?” Stuart spats, taking Thomas completely off guard. “Ask someone else,” he adds, calmer. Smoke lingers in the air between the two of them, and Stuart tosses the cigarette butt on the ground, suddenly disgusted with himself. “You are bound to meet someone who wants to talk about it eventually, although I suggest you stop enquiring at once.” 

Wordlessly, Thomas watches the other man stand up from the bench before he finally speaks: 

“This is not easy to forget.”

Stuart clicks his tongue and pats the front of his jacket, searching for his old hip flask. What he feels instead is the outline of his now empty cigarette pack. 

“Of course it’s not,” Stuart says, dropping his arms to his side. “God knows I’ll do the same if one of my kids-!” he pauses in midsentence, and Thomas’ round face fell. 

“This is big.”

“Of course it is,” Stuart says. “You might not even remember it when everything is over.”

“So I heard,” Thomas says, “but Laura and I are willing to face the consequences of our actions.”

“So go and ask them then,” Stuart says, irritated. “You are already in deep shit. I’m done with this. My wife is dying and I don’t understand half of the things that are happening to us. I’m done, Thomas, you hear me? You want to know how? _He_ knows how. Good luck finding him.” 

With that said, Stuart turns on his heels and heads back to the hospital. 

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Thomas shouts after him. Stuart keeps walking and doesn’t look back. 

* * *

Carrying three plastic cups full of beer in one hand proves to be quite a challenge even with the Frisbee looking beer holder the barista gave him. It’s a weird disc shaped thing made from hard cardboard with slots in it, and Kyle wonders who came out with this crazy, albeit practical idea. Whoever it was, though, they surely never tried to use it when pushing their way through a cheering crowd whilst holding two potato chip bags in their free hand. 

Kyle should have asked Stan to go with him, but he didn’t want to leave Kenny alone so now here he is, a pissed off juggler among drunkards. 

“Let me help you.”

His right hand is suddenly freed from the potato chips, and Kyle wrinkles his brows in displeasure when he comes face to face with Kenny’s lopsided grin. That little dipshit is supposed to enjoy the race, not helping Kyle out with delivery service! 

“I told you I could manage,” Kyle says. 

“You were taking your sweet time with it, so I started worrying,” Kenny replies, casting a quick glance at the disc in Kyle’s hand. “Moreover, I doubt there would be any beer left by the time you came back.” 

Kyle rolls his eyes upwards before walking away, back to their seats. Kenny, however, does not follow him. Tilting his head, Kyle looks back and catches Kenny standing just a few feet away from him, confusion written all over his face. 

“You coming or what?” Kyle asks. Kenny snaps to attention, taking his eyes off of a point below Kyle’s waist. 

“Your ass is distracting,” Kenny says, his lips breaking into a teasing smile. Kyle is almost tempted to throw the disc on the other’s head at that. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Kyle mumbles under his breath. Heat rising up the back of his neck, his heart does a flip in his chest when he realizes that this is the second time Kenny has praised his ass. If one is a chance and twice is a coincidence, the third time Kenny mentions the A word, Kyle will know that Kenny is not joking. 

“Just come,” Kyle snaps. 

“Let me take my pants off first,” Kenny replies. A couple of girls that happen to stand right next to them start to giggle and Kyle opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of the water. It’s been four years, he’s not used to Kenny’s smarmy comments anymore; that’s why his stomach turns into a knot when Kenny winks at the girls and quickly walks up to him. 

“Stop being a dickhead. We are going to miss the last round,” Kyle blurts, as if he is really interested in the race at this point. Kenny is obviously in a great mood, and Kyle would be a big liar that lies if he says that doesn’t make him just a little bit proud of himself. They push their way to their seats in silence until they spot Stan’s pompom hat standing out among the crowd. 

Kenny is humming a song under his breath that Kyle can’t identify. 

“I thought aliens abducted you,” Stan says, leaning over Kenny to reach for one of the plastic cups in Kyle’s hands. 

“Shut up. The queue was long,” Kyle says, taking a cup for himself and leaving the third one for Kenny. Stan huffs and goes back to his phone. 

Since the NASCAR race started, Stan has been maniacally texting, not giving a damn about the stock cars going round and round right in front of his nose. If Kyle has to be honest, he doesn’t care about the race either, but he does his best to keep his eyes on the track. He’s so focused that it takes him a while to see that Kenny too is distracted. 

The plastic cup Kenny’s is holding is full to the brim, and Kyle studies Kenny’s pensive look for a long silent moment before he finally speaks: 

“What did you and Craig use to do together?” Kyle asks, surprising himself with his bluntness. Kenny arches an eyebrow in question, an amused smile gracing his lips for a fleeting moment. Sure that he is going to be teased for it, Kyle sets his jaw, unwilling to take his words back. 

“Besides what you are thinking right now,” Kyle rushes to say before Kenny opens his mouth. 

“I wasn’t thinking of anything,” Kenny says jokingly. Behind him, Stan rolls his eyes to the sky and Kyle feels the corner of his lips tug upwards at that. 

“Movie nights, mostly,” Kenny says after a moment. The infamous butterflies are back to work in Kyle’s stomach at Kenny’s honest reply. He tries not to look shocked or surprised, but he obviously fails to do both when Kenny laughs. 

“What did you expect?” 

“I have no idea,” Kyle says. He’s actually not sure why he wants to know either. 

“He liked stargazing too,” Kenny admits suddenly, blue eyes boring into Kyle’s soul, “but here in the city is difficult to find a good spot to see the stars clearly.” 

Throat dry and heart speeding up with trepidation, Kyle asks: “And where did you go?” 

“In the countryside,” Kenny replies with a shrug, like it’s not that big of a deal. 

The day Craig died he was heading to the countryside. The galaxy and its secrets were Craig’s world; one he was willing to share gladly. He usually took the car and brought Kenny to see the stars, but on that fateful day he decided to bring someone else instead. A murderer. 

“This was something Craig liked to do, though,” Kyle says, narrowing his gaze when the thought suddenly hits him. “What about what _you_ liked to do?”

“Craig was not the type of guy who spent his nights in a strip club,” Kenny replies, that lopsided grin of his affecting Kyle in a way he didn’t think it was possible until now. 

“Seriously, Ken?”

Kenny laughs.

“You haven’t gone to an arcade once?” Kyle asks. “Another NASCAR race, maybe. A concert, whatever.”

“Those things cost money,” Kenny says, his grin quivering into a soft smile, “and I just liked being with him, it didn’t matter where.”

Kyle doesn’t know what to do with that information. He probably shouldn’t be jealous of the dead, though. 

“I never thought you would end dating a guy,” Kyle says, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. “What’s that like?” 

“Why don’t you ask me out to find out?” Kenny asks, not missing a beat. Back straight, dimples gracing his cheeks, it’s impossible to say whether he’s joking or not. Nevertheless, there’s something sincere dancing on the surface of Kenny’s eyes, something that tells Kyle he’s allowed to push this further, if he wants to. Whether is Kenny’s unconscious talking or not, Kyle can’t say. 

From his part, it wouldn’t be the first time Kyle wondered what it would be like to date Kenny McCormick, anyway. 

He’s seen him shamelessly flirting before but he’s seen him dote on his partners too. Once you truly see Kenny, it’s difficult to tear your gaze away, and Kyle too has been burned. Sixteen years old, hormones going wild, Kyle had lied to himself and said it was just a phase. 

One he is still going through, apparently. 

Stan told him Kenny is hitting on him, but Kyle didn’t believe him until now. 

“I-!” Kyle opens his mouth. He’s speechless, a blink away from throwing the beer on the floor and run in the opposite direction. 

“Careful,” Kenny says, suddenly so close Kyle can count his eyelashes. “You are going to spill it.” 

“Huh,” Kyle looks down at the plastic cup in his hand, which is indeed ready to spill its contents all over Kyle’s new jeans. Kenny’s fingers push it back in an upright position, gently touching Kyle’s thumb as he does so. The redhead catches Stan looking straight at him, right eyebrow raised incredibly high. 

“Come on, I was joking,” Kenny says, grinning openly. Were you? Kyle wonders, a chill running up his spine. “Dating is dating. It doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl, right?” 

“Physically speaking, though…” Kyle says, willing himself to move away from Kenny before he does something stupid. 

“That’s true.” 

Kyle blinks down at his beer, narrowing his gaze at the stain on his jeans. Feeling suddenly angry, Kyle raises his cup and gulps everything down. Then he proceeds to grab Kenny’s still full cup and drinks that too, making Stan and Kenny almost jump back in the seats in surprise. 

“Dude!” Stan reproaches him, stretching his hand to get his beer out of Kyle’s reach. 

“Don’t judge,” Kyle snaps. “I’m very thirsty.” 

Right in that moment, the announcer yells something and the whole stadium suddenly roars, covering whatever Stan was ready to say next. As if they have practiced beforehand, everyone shoots their arms up in the air, guttural sounds of annoyance escaping their throats. Kyle jumps out of his seat, letting his eyes wander over the tracks to see who’s won. 

No one has. There’s been an accident on the tracks: four stock cars racing right into each other on the last lap. The NASCAR fans are upset, shouting profanities at the drivers for not being able to properly end the race. A riot arises. Punches are thrown. The stale stench of beer and sweat is revolting. 

Kyle snaps and shouts at the bulky men strangling each other right next to him to knock it off. They answer him by punching him straight in the face. 

For Kyle the NASCAR race ends there. 

***

“He completely lost his mind,” Stan says. 

Kenny chuckles, Kyle’s unconscious body lying flat against his back. If Kyle weren’t kicking so much even out cold, Stan would have gladly given his friend a piggyback ride himself; or at least that is what he told Kenny before they head to Stan’s car. 

Kenny understands the real reason why Stan leaves that up to Kenny when he actually picks him up: Kyle is too damn heavy. 

“I guess it’s a Jersey thing,” Kenny says, amused. 

Arms dangling in front of Kenny’s chest, Kyle groans in protest when Kenny secures his hold on Kyle’s legs with a tiny hop. 

In front of them, the sun is descending into the horizon, its rays tinting Kyle’s red locks a fiery gold. Kenny can’t help but throw a tender glance at him when Kyle mutters something against his shoulder. Unexpectedly, Stan notices. 

“He was really worried for you,” Stan says. “We all were.” 

Kenny doesn’t dignify him with a look and just keeps walking, earning an irritated sigh from Stan’s part. 

“I get why you wanted out of South Park,” Stan continues, averting his gaze somewhere else to conceal how awkward he is really feeling. This is not something Stan Marsh is comfortable speaking of, but he’s trying anyway, and Kenny doesn’t know what to make of that. 

“But you could have talked to us, dude,” Stan says, kicking a pebble with his shoe. Kenny remains silent, and Stan heaves another sigh. “I guess the past is the past, but whatever is bothering you _now_ , just remember we can deal with this together.” 

As if able to hear Stan, Kyle slightly punches Kenny’s chest, mumbling something incomprehensible in his sleep. 

“Gay,” Kenny says. 

“I’m serious, Kenny.” 

Stan stops walking and Kenny does the same, focusing his attention on the setting sun the moment Stan finally raises his eyes to face him head on. 

“There are things that go way above us,” Kenny says. 

“Fuck that,” Stan says, “we went through worse. We are friends, deal with it. Kyle is stressing out over you and I honestly have no idea what to do right now,” he confesses, shoving his hands in his jacket’s pockets, “and if you clam up, it’s just going to get worse.” 

Kenny narrows his gaze at him, but the warning look is lost on Stan. 

“I do not clam up,” Kenny states and clicks his tongue in irritation when Stan rolls his eyes to the sky. “Should I remind you all the shit we had to go through when you were depressed and didn’t want to talk to us? _That’s_ clamming up.” 

“And that didn’t go very well, did it?” Stan asks, taking Kenny totally by surprise. “Don’t make my same mistake and just trust us.” 

“This is not easy,” Kenny finally says after a long moment of silence. 

“Whenever you are ready, dude,” Stan says, and Kenny furrows his eyebrows at him. “I know for a fact that Kyle is dying to bombard you with questions and he probably would have done so by now if it weren’t for me.” 

“What?” Kenny asks, tilting his head in confusion. Stan takes his pompom hat off and runs a hand through his dark hair, kicking another pebble with his shoe. 

“Kyle was so enthusiastic when he finally found you,” Stan says. “You know how he is. He was going to give you the third degree as soon as you got home but I talked him out of it. It’s been four years and you wouldn’t have taken it very well. You would have probably ended up fighting.” 

“Probably,” Kenny concedes, taken aback by Stan’s words. 

“But having a puzzle and not solve is not Kyle’s style,” Stan continues, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Even if he just jumps to the wrong conclusions,” Kenny says. 

“Exactly.” 

Kenny casts his eyes down, Kyle’s body a light weight in comparison to the thing weighting his heart down. He’s not sure what urged Stan to talk to him in that way and he definitely doesn’t agree with everything the other said, but he doesn’t want to start a debate either. 

“Kyle cares about you,” Stan says suddenly, gaining Kenny’s undivided attention, “so if you think you can never speak openly to us about stuff, don’t play with his emotions just to make him feel better.” 

“What do you mean?” Kenny asks. “I am not-!” 

By the way Stan contorts his face in a grimace it becomes fairly obvious how much it pains him to utter the next words: 

“You haven’t stopped flirting with him since I came here.” 

Kenny blinks at him in shock. 

Awkward silence falls between them, so deep, not even crickets dare to chirp. 

“What?” 

“Oh, gosh,” Stan says, shoving his hat back on his head, “I’m not reading too much into this, am I?” 

“You definitely are,” Kenny says, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Stan slides his hands back into his pockets and starts walking again. 

“Just don’t-!” Stan starts but shakes his head before he can end his sentence. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” Kenny mutters behind him, “and I won’t. Don’t worry.” 

Stan throws a glance over his shoulder and smiles at him, and Kenny reciprocates, letting out a surprised yelp when Kyle slightly punches his chest again. 

* * *

“What the hell are you doing!” Craig hisses as Kenny jumps over a fence and waves at him from the other side. “Come back here!” he tries again, nervously glancing around. The neighborhood, however, is fast asleep; the houses lined up next to each other in complete darkness, not even a dim light coming out from the windows. 

“Come on!” Kenny exclaims when Craig peeks over the fence at him. “There’s a pool here!” 

“You are drunk,” Craig says, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let’s go home.” 

“I’m going to jump in,” Kenny declares, quickly discarding his shirt above his head. Craig mutters something under his breath and climbs over the fence himself. By the time Craig reaches him, however, Kenny has already thrown his jeans and underpants on the somewhat damp grass. 

“Put your pants back on, for fuck’s sake,” Craig reproaches him, but Kenny just flips him off and dives into the pool. 

Slightly unsteady on his feet, it takes Craig an impossible amount of time to collect Kenny’s clothes and walk over to the edge of the pool. Kenny watches him, gently floating on the surface like a tired, drunk otter. The sigh makes Craig smile, although he tries his best to hide it. 

“We’ve been roommates for what? Three months?” Kenny asks with a wide grin. Lazily, he moves his limbs to keep from sinking. A liquid, gentle splashing. “I’ve seen you naked already. So take your fucking clothes off and join me.” 

“No,” Craig says and swears when Kenny splashes water at him with a kick. Laughing, the blond swims across the pool in two strokes to reach the ladder. The sound of his wet feet on the grass is almost deafening in the sleeping neighborhood. Craig patiently waits for him to walk around the edge of the pool and hands Kenny his pants when Kenny halts in front of him. 

But Kenny has no intention to put them back on yet. 

His eyes twinkle with mischief; Craig inadvertently takes a step backwards. 

“Don’t you dare,” Craig warns him but it’s already too late. Kenny presses his hands on Craig’s chest and pushes him into the pool, diving after him not a second later. “You fucking bastard,” Craig shouts as soon as he hits the surface. Somewhere next to him Kenny bursts out laughing. 

“Relax, man,” Kenny says, running a hand through his wet hair, “it’s just water.” 

“I had my phone in my pocket,” Craig replies, spitting some water out. Kenny bits his tongue; his grin blinding. 

“Oops?”

“Fucker.”

Another bubble of laughter escapes Kenny’s throat, and the blond leisurely swims towards him, wrapping his arms around Craig’s shoulders. Kenny completely abandons himself into Craig’s embrace, and Craig swears under his breath at the additional weight. With Kenny neck hugging him, it takes him twice the effort to keep on floating. 

“Get off,” Craig says. 

Lopsided smirk still in place, Kenny moves a hand and traces a line on Craig’s left temple with his fingers. 

“No.” 

“Come on, you are drunk,” Craig says, letting out a sigh of irritation. 

“I’m not,” Kenny says tilting his head so that their faces are just a breath away from each other. Craig’s throat is suddenly dry, and Kenny’s smirk turns suddenly devious. Sky blue eyes wander all over Craig’s face, lingering a moment longer than necessary on the other’s mouth. 

“Come on,” Craig repeats. His voice breaks mid-sentence and Kenny licks his lips, enjoying the blush creeping on Craig’s cheeks. 

“Don’t be a dickhead, Kenny,” Craig mutters. “This is not funny.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kenny asks, letting his fingers run through Craig’s hair. 

“Get off of me and let’s go home,” Craig says, anger seeping through his voice. “You are drunk and you are having fun with my emotions. Just drop the act, already.” 

Kenny’s fingers stop in midair and his eyebrows knit in puzzlement. 

“I’m not acting,” Kenny whispers. Craig snorts and looks away from him, letting his eyes wander over the empty garden around the pool before he sets his gaze on Kenny again. Unmoving, lips slightly parted, Kenny looks like he’s just been slapped across the face. 

Craig stares at him, studies his features long and hard, but Kenny remains completely still. 

“Am I reading too much into this?” Craig finally asks, and Kenny’s shoulders finally relax under the other’s touch. 

“You definitely are not.” 

“I thought…” Craig starts but doesn’t know what to say, so he opts to gaze into Kenny’s eyes instead. 

“I really like you, Craig,” Kenny whispers, filling the silence for both of them. “I really, really like you.” 

“I told you it doesn’t matter if you don’t love me back,” Craig says, hesitatingly. “Don’t-!”

“And here I thought _I_ had issues,” Kenny cuts him off, rolling his eyes to the sky. “I do love you, you dipshit.” 

Craig’s falls silent. Catching him completely off guard, Kenny tilts his head and presses their lips together. 

Craig gives up. 


	10. Chapter 8

“What do you mean you _won’t_ tell him?” 

Wincing, Stan quickly snaps his cellphone away from his ear. He’s too slow, however. If the stinging pain is anything to go by, Tricia’s shrill cry of disapproval has already caused permanent damage to his right eardrum. Hoping she is not going to scream at him again, he pins the phone between his shoulder and jaw and nervously taps his fingers on the steering wheel. 

“I won’t tell him,” Stan repeats with a resigned sigh, sinking deeper into the driver’s seat. 

The parking lot he decided to stop for a while is eerily silent at that time of the night, and Stan almost expects Jason Voorhees to knock on his window with his machete. In comparison to Tricia’s long rants, however, a murderer lurking in the darkness is far less scary.

“But you said Kyle is working on this case!” Tricia exclaims. “He might help us! Did you at least read his notes?” 

“I did,” Stan admits putting the keys in the ignition, “and it’s like you said. Brian Scott was indeed the name of the truck’s driver. I still believe it was a coincidence, though.” 

“No, Stan,” Tricia says, voice firm, “this is _not_ a coincidence. Haven’t you read any of my messages?” 

“I did,” Stan groans, rolling his eyes upwards. 

“This guy called my parents three times this past week,” Tricia says, although Stan has already heard this story already and he’s in no mood to listen to it _again_ , “and it sure as hell wasn’t to pay his respects to Craig. Moreover, if the NS Express Inc. wanted to pay some kind of compensation for his death, they sure wouldn’t send their truck driver for it, would they?” 

“Of course not,” Stan agrees even when he knows Tricia is too lost in her theories to actually listen to him. 

“I bet the NS Express Inc. doesn’t even know what he’s doing,” Tricia continues. “He shouldn’t be working for them anymore. They went bankrupt recently, didn’t they?” 

“According to Kyle, yes,” Stan says. 

“I’ve seen him today,” Tricia confesses. Stan sits up straighter, waiting for the next bit of information. “He knocked on our door at exactly 15:30 and told me he was the taxi driver that would take my mom and dad to the cemetery, although there was no cab stationed out front. Name? Brian Scott.” 

“You told me already, Tricia,” Stan interrupts her, “but it’s all still too much of a coincidence for me. I seriously doubt Kyle can help you solve this mystery of yours. He’s… well…” 

He’s in deep shit, Stan wants to tell her. Although Kenny has always been a very reserved and quiet person and has always kept his mouth tightly shut on his private life, Kyle thinks it’s kind of their fault he does. To make matters worse, Kyle is falling for his friend in the meantime. If Stan adds this Brian Scott to the whole package, Kyle is probably going to nuke a country, if not to prove a point to himself, to make Kenny feel better about the shitty world they are living in. 

“Damn it, Stan,” Tricia swears. “Man up already and ask him!” 

“It’s easy for you to say!” Stan exclaims. 

Tricia falls silent at his sudden outburst, and Stan massages his temples to calm himself down. 

“Listen,” Stan tries again, “it all might be a huge misunderstanding. Maybe this guy felt bad for Craig’s death and does want to pay his respects to his family. It happens all the time!” 

“You haven’t seen his face,” Tricia says, taking Stan completely aback. “He was-!” she wavers, letting out a shaky breath. Stan can’t see her face, but he swears he can feel her fear through the phone. “He looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t hesitate to kill innocents with his bare hands.” 

“Tricia…” 

“I had to follow them, Stan,” Tricia announces, a sob escaping her throat. “I waited for them to leave and went after them. They didn’t go to the cemetery. They all got into a car, which was parked around the corner from our house, and drove in the other direction, out of South Park.” 

“What?” 

“This is not the first time I follow them,” Tricia confesses after a moment of silence, “and I assure you, they’ve never been to Craig’s grave, not once.” 

“What if-!” 

“Stan, what if Scott is the murderer’s accomplice?” Tricia cuts him off before she bursts into tears. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Stan whispers. Hearing a woman cry while he can’t do anything about it does wonders for his mood. He wants to switch his phone off, forget about Craig and drive back to his small apartment in South Park. First Kyle, then Kenny, now this. Is it too much to ask for a little peace of mind? 

“But think about it!” Tricia exclaims. “The police report claims that the truck pulled over, but the first thing we were told before the NS Express Inc. lawyers barged in was that it stopped in the middle of the road. They said the brakes weren’t working, but how did the driver stop this big ass truck if the brakes weren’t working? I saw the pictures. The truck was standing there, as if it was waiting for someone to crash right into it. The drunk driver in a coma _was_ a coincidence, but not Brian Scott. He was told to be there, I’m sure of it. They were waiting for Craig.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stan tries to reason, but Tricia just sobs harder. Fuck. “Why would the murderer go to such lengths for Craig?” 

This is so awkward. He can’t handle a distressed girl who misses her brother so much she’s going insane. There must be a logical explanation for everything. There must be, or Tricia is going to drive him crazy. 

“I have no idea,” Tricia sniffs, “but now my parents are involved and I don’t like it.” 

“Kyle can’t help you out with this,” Stan says. “There’s not enough evidence and he-!” 

“Then you do it!” Tricia cries. “I am not going to ask Kenny, so I’m asking you. Craig hated your guts but he trusted you more than Kyle. So I’m going to trust you too.” 

Stan’s breath catches. 

“Okay, don’t cry,” Stan says. Women. He’s never going to figure them out. “I’m driving back to South Park. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Don’t cry.” 

* * *

When Kyle opens his eyes it is already past midnight. 

He stretches his legs, arching an eyebrow in surprise when his bare feet brush against the couch’s arm. There’s a throbbing pain on the right side of his head, but it dulls incredibly when he tilts his neck and spots Kenny sitting cross-legged on the floor. Kyle watches him in silence for a while, takes in the concentrated look on Kenny’s face as he plays some game on his phone. The blue light of the screen casts weird shadows in the pitch black living room, giving Kenny an almost ethereal glow. An alluring beacon in the middle of nowhere. 

“Hey,” Kyle hums gently, gaining Kenny’s attention. 

“Hey,” Kenny hums back, immediately putting his phone down and crawling to Kyle’s side. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’ve been punched in the face by two wrestlers,” Kyle says and he must still be out of it, for his hand moves against Kyle’s will and caresses a spot above Kenny’s eyebrow. 

A smile stretches across the other’s lips, but Kyle can’t tell if it’s because of what he said or the inadvertent touch. Either way, Kenny doesn’t pull away. 

“That was really stupid from your part,” Kenny says. “We were almost tempted to take you to the hospital. You’ve been out cold for hours.” 

At the use of the plural pronoun, Kyle drops his hand and props himself up on his elbows to cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. 

“Where’s Stan?” Kyle asks. 

“He left hours ago,” Kenny replies. “It’s almost one in the morning and he needs to be at work at nine. I would have believed him, if he hadn’t been texting his girlfriend the whole day through.” 

“You should have gone to sleep instead of waiting for me to wake up,” Kyle reproaches, ignoring Kenny’s comment about their mutual friend. Kenny’s smirk grows wider at that, and Kyle feels a blush crawl up his neck when Kenny tilts his head just so. 

“Who says I was waiting for you to wake up?” Kenny says. 

The teasing tone in his voice shouldn’t make Kyle’s heart beat faster in his chest. He opens his mouth to retort, but a bubble of laugher escapes Kenny’s lips before Kyle can find anything intelligent to say. 

“Okay, you got me. I was worried,” Kenny admits, voice getting softer. “You really shouldn’t have shouted at them. That was completely unnecessary.” 

“They deserved it. It was the double punch that caught me off guard,” Kyle defends himself, slowly lying back down. His throat goes completely dry when Kenny absentmindedly leans closer to him to maintain the same eye level. If Kyle moves his head just a little bit more to the right, their noses are going to brush –he’ sure of it. 

With one hand on the couch and the other one on the floor to keep himself upright, Kenny looks completely at ease with their sudden proximity. 

“I’m sorry the race ended that way,” Kyle whispers. Is his breathing quickening? It is, goddamnit. Breath in. Breath out. Don’t do anything stupid.

“At least you didn’t get a concussion or something,” Kenny says with a grin. “But I had fun, all things considered.” 

“Really?” Kyle asks and Kenny hums in response. 

It’s difficult to keep his hands to himself when strands of blond hair cover part of Kenny’s eyes. Kyle wants to brush the offensive strands away, but he remains completely still instead, surprised by the way his friend is gazing back at him. 

The only noise in the room is the constant buzz of the fridge coming from the dinette. It’s a silence that Kyle doesn’t want to fill with words. He’s actually pretty content with what they are having now –whatever it is. Kenny’s pupils are dilated, focused. His attention drifts from Kyle’s eyes to his cheeks, down to his lips and up to his eyes again, and Kyle is hypnotized by whatever Kenny is doing right now. The look-over Kenny is giving him should make him feel uncomfortable, but it strangely does not. 

On the contrary.

Fingers brushing against Kyle’s, Kenny doesn’t seem in the mood to start a conversation either. 

This must be an hallucination. 

There is no way Kenny became more gorgeous in the span of a day. All inhibition thrown to the wind, Kenny’s face is an open book, one Kyle can’t wait to read and call his favorite. 

It’s the right time to speak, to ask the questions Kyle always wanted to ask, regardless of what Stan suggested. He should tell Kenny about Craig, about what he found out, Tricia’s theories. A shiver runs up his spine when Kenny’s lips part, as if he’s ready to let him in on a secret too. 

Suddenly, the other’s mouth is all Kyle can focus on. He doesn’t want to ask anything. He just wants to know what Kenny tastes like, tilt his head and catch those offending lips between his. A bad move, probably. A ticket to damnation, surely. Kenny is going to laugh in his face. 

At the thought, Kyle wills himself to tear his gaze off of Kenny’s mouth. 

“You-!” Kyle begins. 

“Hmm?” Kenny arches an eyebrow, leans closer. 

And suddenly the spell is broken. 

Kenny’s cellphone starts ringing. 

“Shit!” Kenny exclaims and shoots up. “Shit!” he repeats, abruptly turning his back to Kyle and picking his phone up. 

Kyle lets out a breath he didn’t know he has been holding and slowly stands up, feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. There are beads of sweat on Kenny’s temples and his hands are violently shaking as his thumb swipes against the screen to answer the call. 

“What is it?” Kenny asks curtly, pressing his ear against his phone. “Dad?” 

The worried way Kenny pronounces the last word makes Kyle snap to attention. He takes a couple of steps towards him and almost snatches the phone away from Kenny’s grip when the blond trips on his own feet. The terror in the other’s eyes freezes him in his tracks. 

“What?” Kenny whispers. His fingers are so stiff it takes Kyle a second longer than necessary to take the phone away from him. He ignores Kenny feeble protest and takes the call instead. 

“It’s your fault!” someone shouts right into his brain. It’s definitely Kenny’s dad and judging by his slurred speech, he’s totally wasted. “It’s your fucking fault! Carol didn’t deserve this- she didn’t-!” 

“Mr. McCormick,” Kyle snaps. “It’s really late. I’m sure this can wait-!” 

Suddenly recovering from his shock, Kenny grabs Kyle’s arm and urges him to give him the phone back. 

“Oh, the young Broflovski!” Kenny’s dad sarcastic tone of voice makes Kyle’s jaw clench in anger. “Do you always have to be a nuisance? Sticking your fucking nose in everybody else’s business, like a motherfucking-!” 

“Mr. McCormick-!” Kyle warns and cries in protest when Kenny shoves him angrily away and takes the phone back in his shaky grip. 

“Where’s mom?” Kenny asks, casting his eyes down and turning his back to Kyle. “No, he’s not my new boyfriend-! Dad. Dad! Forget about Kyle!” he shouts into the phone. “Where the fuck is mom, you son of a-!” 

Kyle looks away, runs a hand through his messy hair and lets out a sigh of frustration. A second later, Kenny falls suddenly silent again. His shoulders round in defeat, and he hides his face into his palm, carefully listening to whatever his dad is telling him. 

“Kenny?” Kyle asks. Kenny abruptly ends the call and furiously throws the phone on the couch, swearing slightly when it bounces against the backrest and falls in between the cushions. “Kenny, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Kenny mumbles. His shaky breathing betrays him, though, and Kyle walks around him to face Kenny head on. “Kyle, please-!” Kenny groans, averting the other’s gaze. 

“He was drunk,” Kyle says, studying Kenny’s face, hoping to find something that could clue him in on what’s just happened. The fear crawling under the other’s skin makes Kyle boil with anger. “I’m sure he didn’t mean whatever-!” 

“My mom has cancer, Kyle,” Kenny exclaims, snapping his eyes to him. “I killed her,” he repeats then, his voice a tiny whisper. Eyes glazing over, Kenny continues: “Like I killed Craig.” 

“No, no,” Kyle rushes to say and gives Kenny’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “You didn’t kill Craig. That was- that was an accident, and your mother-!” 

“I killed Craig, Kyle,” Kenny says, firm, “and now my mom is dying too and I can’t do anything about it.” 

With a violent shrug, Kenny pushes Kyle away from him, taking a couple of steps backwards to put as much distance as possible between the two of them. Kyle rolls his hands into fists but relaxes immediately when Kenny drops down on the couch and buries his face into his palms. 

“What happened?” Kyle asks. 

“I have no idea,” Kenny mumbles. “Dad says she keeps puking blood or something. She’s in the hospital right now. Cancer, they said.” 

“Since when is she-?” Kyle tries to ask, but Kenny snaps his head up, shooting him a dirty look. 

“Does it matter?” Kenny cries. “She’s sick and that’s all my-!” 

“How is cancer your fault?” Kyle abruptly asks shutting Kenny up. “Listen, Ken,” he says, tries hard to keep calm. 

Seeing Kenny upset takes him completely off guard. He forces himself to breathe in and to forget Stuart McCormick’s insults and accusations. This is not the time. Stuart is not important right now. Kenny is. 

“Listen,” he repeats, dropping on his knees next to his friend, “it’s going to be alright. They are making strides against any type of cancer,” he says reaching out for Kenny’s hands. “She is going to be alright.” 

“We are poor, Kyle, remember?” Kenny asks, a bittersweet smile crossing his face. “We can afford those fancy treatments they are giving cancer patients right now.”

“We are going to make it,” Kyle says and Kenny arches his eyebrows at that. “Don’t worry about money. Come on, Kenny. Let’s go to sleep and head back to South Park first thing in the morning to check on your mom. You have to call in sick to work or something too. You can’t afford to get fired, right? Come on, don’t worry. You know what they say, hope dies last.” 

Kenny wants to laugh at that but he is too shocked by Kyle’s fingers wrapped around his to do anything that isn’t staring at Kyle open mouthed. He should speak up. He should say: no, Kyle. 

No, hope doesn’t die last. 

Whatever hope I had died long ago. Mine, yours, whatever hope – all of my hopes actually, my goals, my dreams, have died long ago. You know who is going to die last? _Me_. My friends will be gone one by one and I will still be here. My family, my neighbors, any guy I’ve seen on the street just once, will be long gone, partying with the angels and the devil himself, and I’ll still be here. Because you know what? I can’t die. The apocalypse may come and go and I’ll be the last man standing, reborn from my own ashes like a motherfucker phoenix and that sucks. I may kill myself and I am just reborn the day after. Everyone will be gone and I’ll be there. Alone. I’ll still be here to keep myself company. Any hope will die way before me. So, no, Kyle, hope- no, whatever hopes we have won’t die last. I will, if I ever will. 

Hopes don’t die last.

 _And if I tell you all of this_ , Kenny thinks. _Then you are going to die too. Like Craig. Like mom._

“Good idea,” Kenny says instead and slides his fingers out of Kyle’s grasp. “I’ll take the couch today. You go-!” 

“No,” Kyle protests. “You go back in your room,” he says. “I am not tired at all. I’ve been out cold for hours, remember?” he asks, smiling softly at Kenny. “I’ll just work on my project for a bit.” 

“Okay,” Kenny agrees, slowly standing up. Kyle sighs loudly and sits down on the floor, watching as Kenny makes his way to his room with his head hanged low. 


	11. Chapter 9

Kyle doubts he can function properly on three hours of sleep, but he tries his best to look refreshed and ready to go. For Kenny’s sake, he needs to flaunt positivity, be a good pal and be wide awake in case Kenny needs him. 

Casting a quick look at the blond boy helping him pack all this stuff in the car, Kyle can see the worry painfully clear on the other’s face. He’s quieter than usual, but Kyle manages to get a smile out of him when he takes his Hello Kitty doll and puts it on the dash because, he says, “It’s going to bring us good luck.” 

Not that Kyle believes in fate and good fortune. He hates to think that his destiny has already been written and that he had no say in it. If God decides he’s going to be miserable all his life, Kyle is not going to hang his head down low and accept whatever they have in store for him. No, playing the victim gets nothing done –he _knows_. He is going to flip them off and do what he can to turn his fate around instead. 

And if that same God is taking it out on Kenny then Kyle is going to wage war against them, no questions asked. He respects God, as long as they don’t touch his friends. 

Except for Cartman. He can go to Hell, for all he cares. 

Kyle has always prided himself on logic. For him, causes and consequences are incredibly easy concepts, although they aren’t always painless. 

Since Kenny decided he is going to stay in South Park for a while, it’s only common sense that Kyle takes him there and leaves back to college immediately after. His project is over, Craig Tucker’s case is going to remain a mystery forever and his mother won’t take it kindly if she finds out her oldest son has been skipping classes for a whole week. 

(Sheila Broflovski is scarier than any superior being, after all. Kyle can defy God, but not her.)

Those are pretty clear causes that lead to just one logical outcome: he needs to go back to his life. Kenny agrees and immediately offers to help him pack his things, ignoring how this hurts Kyle. If Kenny asked him to stay with him through the end, Kyle would. Kenny, however, looks like he can’t wait to be left alone again. 

Kyle blames Stuart McCormick for it. Whatever the older man told him has wiped that beautiful smile from Kenny’s lips. They were doing just fine without the accusations. Carol McCormick’s sickness has nothing to do with Kenny, so why did he put this on his own son? Kyle doesn’t understand, and irrationality has always pissed him off. 

Nevertheless, Kyle tries not to wear his heart on his sleeve as he always does. It’s extremely difficult, but Kenny is too out of it to actually realize that Kyle is faking his enthusiasm. When packing is over and done with, Kenny hops into the passenger’s seat, turns the Hello Kitty doll so that it faces the road and switches the radio on. 

Kyle indulges him. Tired and almost ready to fall asleep right then and there, Kyle puts his keys in the ignition and shoots a forlorn look towards Kenny’s apartment. 

And off they go. 

The journey back to South Park is not long. Four hours at most, if they don’t pull over for rest stops more than twice. It would have been easier to stay awake if Kenny talked, coffee can only do so much. Kyle takes it upon himself to fill the silence. The radio and the wind coming through Kenny’s open window covers his voice, makes it difficult to have a normal conversation with him. 

Moreover, it’s extremely awkward. 

There are so many unanswered questions lingering in the air, so many things left unsaid and undone. Kyle wants to reach out for Kenny’s hand, squeeze his fingers and reassure him he’s going to stay, even if Kenny tells him to leave. Look at me, Kenny. Stop gazing out of the window. What are you thinking? 

On his part, Kyle is not thinking clearly. _Eyes on the road_ , he repeats like a mantra in his head because his imagination is running wild and all he wants to do is focus on Kenny and try to put him together like a thousand pieces puzzle. It’s scary how they know each other since kindergarten but it’s only now that Kyle wants to feel closer to him. His sixteen years old self has just asked the cosmos a million of what-ifs, but the present is much different. These what-ifs could become real possibilities if either of them gives in, or they could lead them into a chasm and break them if they don’t. 

Kyle doesn’t know why he is thinking of that when all he needs to do is to keep driving. Carol McCormick is their priority right now. 

At that time of the morning the traffic is light, nonexistent. It could have very well be Kenny and him, two against the world. 

The radio is playing an old Limp Bizkit song. The constant drumming sound should keep him awake, but it ends up being kind of hypnotic instead. He yawns and he takes one hand off the steering wheel to cover his mouth. 

“Have you slept at all last night?” 

Kenny’s voice startles him. 

“A little bit,” Kyle reply, glancing to his right towards Kenny, who is now staring openly at him. There is a thoughtful look on his face, the corner of his lips tugged upwards in an uncertain smile. 

“Do you want to drive for a while?” Kyle asks. His eyelids feel heavy and he wouldn’t mind to nap for a couple of hours before he takes the wheel again. When Kenny hesitates, Kyle arches an eyebrow at him in wonder. 

“You look like shit,” Kenny says. The rearview mirror confirms his statement: the dark circles around his eyes make him look like a panda. At this point Kyle has no idea if he should blame the lack of sleep or the punches he received at the NASCAR race. 

Before Kyle can utter some kind of comeback, another yawn takes him off guard and leaves him speechless. Kenny giggles. 

“Spit it out, how much did you sleep?” Kenny asks. 

“Three hours? Maybe,” Kyle says. “I’m okay,” he reassures him immediately after, “but I wouldn’t mind to take a break.” 

Kenny looks out of the window again, as if he hasn’t heard him, and falls silent again. Kenny looks at war with himself, fidgeting in his seat as if he is pondering his next move. 

“What is it?” Kyle asks, getting restless with Kenny’s discomfort. 

“Pull over,” Kenny orders him, and Kyle does, taken aback by the determination in the other’s voice. A car races past them, honking loudly, and Kenny flips them off before he gets out of the car. A moment later he is tapping against Kyle’s window, and Kyle willingly gives up his seat. 

“Thanks,” Kyle says sliding into Kenny’s seat and leaning his head against the headrest. “You can wake me up in an hour.” 

It’s warm and it smells nice, just like Kenny, and he closes his eyes, breaths deeply, abandons himself to the familiar scent. 

Kenny’s face softens at that and adjusts the seat, feeling the warm plastic of the steering wheel against his fingers, just where Kyle’s hands had been mere minutes before. The traffic is light. He shouldn’t be afraid of anything. He is going to drive for an hour and pull over as soon as Kyle feels ready to continue. The motor rumbles, all he needs to do is press the gas pedal and go. 

He glances towards Kyle again. He’s ready to fall asleep, and Kenny switches the radio off for him.

Just drive, a voice inside his head says. It’s just for an hour. 

Yes, but it took him a minute to kill Craig. A minute of distraction. There are sixty minutes in an hour, any moment could be lethal. 

Kyle’s breathing is even. With his eyes closed, sunken, he looks like a dead man lying on a mortuary table. Like Craig. He should have been the one on that cold table. Kenny concentrates on the road in front of him and tightens his hands around the steering wheel. His heart speeds up in his chest, the road stretches on for miles. How many trucks? How many pick-ups? How many accidents? Kyle sighs next to him. He’s tired. Stupid project. Why did Kyle choose that project anyway? Blood on the dash, on the window. He closes his eyes and sees the picture of Craig’s dead body dancing behind his eyelids. He can’t breathe. Someone is pushing him underwater. That’s where he kissed Craig for the first time. He should have drowned instead. It’s a long way to South Park. Everything can happen. He can’t do that to Kyle. An hour is too long. He’s shaking. 

“Hey, dude,” Kyle’s voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Kenny snaps his head to him and blinks when Kyle gently takes his right hand off the steering wheel. Eyes glazed over, he lazily brings Kenny’s fingers to his lips and presses his nose against his knuckles. “Don’t worry. She is going to be okay,” he says, half-asleep, and lets him go again. 

Kenny’s heart slows down. He can feel the shape of Kyle’s lips against his skin and it’s terrifying how much he is enjoying it. He promised Stan not to do anything stupid and moving his hand away it’s the most logical thing he can do, because Kyle is not thinking clearly right now and Kenny is not an ass. 

“Yes,” Kenny laconically says, and Kyle smiles at him. The redhead makes himself comfortable again and leans against his seat. He’s off to dreamland in a second. 

Kenny watches him sleep for a while and realizes he doesn’t look like a corpse at all. Cheeks rosy, a faint smile on his lips, Kyle looks gorgeous even with those ugly dark circles under his eyes. 

“Do you trust me?” Kenny asks even if he knows he isn’t going to receive an answer. Kyle keeps breathing peacefully in the passenger’s seat, and Kenny finally starts the car and pulls into the traffic. 

It’s only an hour. He’s going to make it. 

***

When Kyle wakes up again, they are less than a half an hour away from South Park. He blinks at the mountains rising in the distance and can’t suppress a smile when he hears Kenny muttering a song under his breath as he drives. He pretends to be asleep for a couple of minutes more, amused by his friends’ taste in music. 

“Didn’t you use to sing opera?” Kyle finally asks. “What’s up with this House music crap?” 

Kenny laughs besides him, and Kyle moves his head to finally look at him. Kenny’s eyes are fixed on the road, and Kyle can enjoy the view without having to worry about his friend catching him unawares. 

“You awake?” Kenny asks, a big smile crossing his lips. 

“Didn’t I tell you to wake me up?” Kyle asks instead, stretching his arms above his head as much as he can. 

“Oh, I couldn’t bring myself to, hon,” Kenny says. “You looked like a little angel. It was a very… satisfying view.” 

“Shut up,” Kyle says, rubbing his eyes. He sits up straighter and twists slightly until he hears the familiar pop when he cracks his back. Looking at Kenny again, he realizes the blond has turned suddenly serious the moment they drove past their town sign. 

“When was the last time you’ve been to South Park?” Kyle asks, curious. 

“Four years ago,” Kenny replies without hesitation. “Crappy town, if you ask me. All the PC babies of the world cannot take the bigotry out of it.” 

“I doubt that’s the reason why you left,” Kyle says and lets out a sigh of relief when Kenny chuckles. He waits for Kenny to talk, but the blond falls silent again. Suddenly, he pulls over and stops the car before they can reach the first houses in town. 

As much as he wants to, Kyle doesn’t dare to speak first, and Kenny slumps back in his seat, a pondering look crossing his face for a fleeting moment. 

“I felt abandoned,” Kenny mutters, voice so low Kyle swears he’s still dreaming. Kenny gulps down, and Kyle knows he has to do something before he clams up again. 

“Why?” 

Maybe it’s not the right question, but it’s the only one Kyle can come up with that doesn’t make him look like he’s pushing Kenny to talk. Heart in his throat, Kyle waits. Patience is not his virtue, but he has to stay strong, for Kenny’s sake.

“Kevin and Karen left,” Kenny says, “and as much as I wished to follow them to Harrisburg, I couldn’t.” 

Kyle hums in reply. 

“My parents wouldn’t let me,” Kenny continues, “but trust me, I didn’t finish high school for their sake. If I could, I’d have left much sooner than I did.”

“What about us?” Kyle asks, not helping himself, and the bitter laugh that escapes from Kenny’s throat feels like a stab wound to the heart. 

“You can’t imagine how angry I was when you left without a goodbye,” Kyle snaps, biting his tongue when the words come out harsher than he intended. “I understand Cartman. He’s a dick. But what about me? What about Stan? What did we do to you? Didn’t we deserve some kind of explanation after all we’ve been through together?” 

“Yes, Cartman is a dick,” Kenny concedes. “But you weren’t exactly the best of friends either, were you? I always felt like I was a third wheel to you.” 

There. Out in the open. A glance towards Kyle confirms how much his words hurt him, and Kenny immediately regrets bringing this conversation up. Hands tightened into fists, Kyle looks like he is going to set the whole world on fire. 

Until he does not.

“I’m sorry,” Kyle mutters, cheeks red, taking Kenny totally by surprise. “I had no idea.” 

The lump in Kenny’s throat makes it difficult to breath. He expected Kyle to fight tooth and nail to come out a winner as he always does, not to see his shoulders slump in defeat. Nevertheless, it doesn’t last long. Jaw set, Kyle is back in charge of his fiery self. 

“But it was wrong on your part to think this way,” Kyle continues. “Stan and I cared about you, and we still do, if you haven’t noticed. Get your head out of your ass for a second and admit you could have talked to us about whatever was bothering you back then.” 

“Well, I tried, but you didn’t listen,” Kenny snaps. A vertical line appears between Kyle’s eyebrows, and Kenny hates how much he wants to even it out with his thumb. 

“Okay, I’m listening now,” Kyle says, eyes wide. Kenny looks at him in disbelief. “Well?” Kyle prods. “Is that all you have to say? You abandoned me because Kevin and Karen left and you thought your friends were being dicks to you? Is that all?”

“Why do you make everything about you?” Kenny asks with a snort. 

“Come on, Kenny!” Kyle groans and runs a hand through his hair. “If you left because your sister went to Harrisburg, you would have followed her as soon as you finished high school! You didn’t, so there’s something more to this story that you won’t tell me. And if you had a problem with either Stan or me, you would have been all passive aggressive about it until one of us snapped. You were acting normal until you just disappeared!” 

Damn you, Kyle, for being so damn smart! 

“There is nothing normal about me,” Kenny blurts. Kyle rolls his eyes upwards and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Oh, right, so Craig deserved to know, but not me,” Kyle says. 

“Craig?” Kenny asks, arching his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, you told him, right?” Kyle asks, tilting his head to the side, and Kenny averts his gaze.

“Drop it, Kyle,” Kenny says. “It’s not worth it.”

“You are worth to me,” Kyle blurts before he can register the words in his head. He licks his lips when Kenny slowly turns around to face him, unbelieving. “Well,” he whispers, eyes low, searching for his next words. 

“What if I tell you I died many times already?” Kenny asks before Kyle can recover. The bitter smile on Kenny’s face catch Kyle completely off guard and he feels a cold shiver run up his spine. 

So it is true. Kenny did try to kill himself before. 

Kenny takes a big breath and lifts his hand to the keys in the ignition. They lost enough time already, and his mom is agonizing in a hospital bed without him while Kyle is trying to understand something he will never believe. 

“Kenny,” Kyle says, gaining his attention again. “I would be devastated if you died.” 

“You don’t know what you are saying,” Kenny says and clicks his tongue. Groaning, Kyle fights against the urge to grab Kenny and… and…

“I’m going to stay in South Park as long as you need me,” Kyle says, and Kenny wills himself to look at him. “I’m going to prove to you that you never were a third wheel to me.”

Kenny’s throat feels dry and it’s with utter difficulty that he asks, “What about college?” 

“Fuck college,” Kyle snaps. He violently turns around and pushes his door open. Eyebrows raised, Kenny watches him as he walks around the car and stops in front of Kenny’s door. “Get out,” he orders. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Kenny does as told. He takes his sweet time with it and almost snorts when he sees Kyle tapping his foot against the ground in annoyance. The smarmy comment is literally hanging off Kenny’s lips, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud. There’s something in the way Kyle looks completely lost that makes him absolutely attractive. 

“You want to drive?” Kenny asks, because what else can he say? Kyle lifts his eyes to him, studies his features as he is having some kind of epiphany. 

And if that isn’t scary, Kenny doesn’t know what is. 

“Are you angry at me right now?” Kenny asks. 

“No. Are you?” Kyle retorts, but before Kenny can answer, he takes a giant stride towards him and pulls him into a crushing hug. Eyes wide in shock, Kenny has no idea what to do with his hands. Or anything, for that matter. Should he joke about it? Hug back? Hide his face in the crook of Kyle’s neck and reassure him he got him? 

“Oh, Kyle,” he begins but Kyle shushes him before he could mask his shock with humor. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“If you keep this up a moment longer, I am going to grab your ass. It looks amazing from up here,” Kenny tries again and his heart skips a beat when Kyle bursts out laughing. Kenny gently pulls away and his jaw drops when he sees the way Kyle is gazing at him. Eyes trained on Kenny’s face, a satisfied smile stretches across his lips as if Kenny has just confirmed a theory of his. 

“My mom is going to kill me,” Kyle says. 

“Just go back to college,” Kenny says. “I’m going to do great without you.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Kyle teases and slides into the driver’s seat shaking his head. Sighing loudly, Kenny walks around the car and gets back into the car. 

“So Hell’s Pass?” Kyle asks. 

“Hell’s Pass,” Kenny confirms. Kyle doesn’t waste time and drives off. 


	12. Chapter 10

“ _Kenny_!”

A small, feminine body slams against his with force, and Kenny holds on to it tightly, quickly wiping his sleeve against his eyes when he finally lets go and hugs the man standing close by. 

Karen has grown an inch or two since he last saw her, the violent and green streaks in her chestnut hair a painful reminder that she’s not over her vampire phase yet. She smiles widely at Kenny and goes for another hug, while Kevin pats him on the back and draws away to give them some room. His calloused hands are so strong Kenny momentarily loses his balance. 

The two McCormick siblings have always been on the slender side, malnutrition scraping off their ribs, but Harrisburg must have had sort of a healing effect on them, because Kyle can’t see any trace of penury in their broad shoulders anymore. Kevin could have been a boxer, time and money permitting, while Karen, for all her dancer’s grace, looks strong enough to knock a man out cold with a well-executed punch. 

Kenny, on the other hand, is different. Physically speaking, he’s not as thin as to start worrying. Years of parkouring have shaped his body well, but he’s definitely tinier than his brother. Now that the three McCormicks stand side by side Kyle notices how pale he is compared to his siblings. The sunken look to his cyan eyes and the bitter smile, hidden underneath layers of sassiness and dirty jokes, is a complete contrast to Karen and Kevin’s ecstatic faces. The urge to wipe away and replace it with something else becomes slightly stronger. 

“When did you get here?” Kenny asks, hands still on Karen’s shoulders. 

Kyle draws back. It feels wrong to be standing in the middle of the hospital’s corridor with them when he has no business there. 

“Yesterday,” Kevin answers. “Dad called us in the middle of the night, saying mom is dying, so we took the first airplane to Denver.” 

_The bastard_ , Kyle thinks and bits hard the inside of his cheek to refrain himself from repeating it out loud. He must have let out some kind of noise, however, for Kevin and Karen’s eyes drift to him. 

“Kyle Broflovski?” Kevin asks, shock written all over his face. As if he just remembered Kyle’s existence, Kenny turns to look at him too. The corners of his eyes tug upwards, the lines between his eyebrows smooth out, and Kyle literally melts. 

“I should go,” Kyle blurts. He clears his throat and makes a vague gesture towards the elevators. “I’ll grab a coffee from the cafeteria. Do you want something?” he asks, out of habit, and feels Karen’s knowing stare bore into him when Kenny slightly shakes his head no. 

He quickly turns his back to them and leaves them on their own, Kenny still holding on his sister’s shoulder and Kevin standing close between the two. 

“Kyle Broflovski?” Kevin asks turning to Kenny again the moment Kyle disappears into the elevator. “I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with the lot of them anymore.” 

Rolling his eyes upwards, Kenny asks: “Where’s mom?” 

“Room 305,” Karen replies before Kevin can. She slides her hand over Kenny’s arm and intertwines their fingers together, slightly pulling him towards her. “Let’s go. She keeps asking for you.” 

Kenny’s brows furrow at that and he follows his sister down the corridor, ignoring the curious look Kevin is still throwing his way. 

Carol McCormick’s room is the last one on the left, the smallest one of the whole floor, which she has to share with three other patients. Clearly, their health insurance couldn’t cover a much better one. 

Nevertheless, none of the McCormicks seem to mind the lack of fresh air in the room as they walk in all together and reach their mother’s bed in a couple of strides. There’s a plastic chair next to the head of the bed, still warm from when Stuart had been sitting there, and Karen immediately sinks into it. 

At the sight of them, Carol’s face visibly brightens. 

“Baby!” Carol croaks in a feeble voice. 

Kenny doesn’t pretend to be stronger than he is. He flings himself into his mother’s open arms and presses his nose in the crook of her neck. His knee bangs against the metal bedframe, but all Kenny can feel are Carol’s bony fingers rubbing small circles on the small of his back. 

It takes Kenny all of his self-will to push himself away and study the apparent sickness in his mother’s face. Bluish lips, hanging eyelids, her freckles bright on a white canvas. 

“You look good, honey,” she says, maybe to distract him from her own physical appearance. She cups his cheeks and smiles brightly at him. “Much better than the last time I saw you. Have you been eating well?” 

“Kyle Broflovski is his new baby sitter,” Karen says, a grin stretching across her lips when Kenny snaps his head towards her, wide-eyed. Carol’s gaze flickers between the three of them but the creak in the bed when Kenny sits down on it distracts her from asking any question. 

“How are you?” Kenny asks, the worry seeping through his words against his will. Carol’s hair is lank between her fingers, and Kenny averts his gaze, feeling as if Carol has already answered him without saying a word. 

“The doctors said I need to go through a harsh course of chemotherapy,” Carol says, lips twisting into a frown. “I said there’s no need, that I’ll be fine in a few weeks’ time, but your father insists I stay here.” 

“Mom, you have cancer, you’re _supposed_ to stay here,” Kenny says. Awkward silence follows the cursed word, wrapping the whole family in a sense of foreboding. Carol’s hand slips from her hair onto the duvet covering her abdomen and stays there, cold like marble. 

“I asked that useless of your father not to call you,” Carol says, jaw clenching. “I’m going to be okay, I told him, the kids don’t need to worry about me. But no. He drinks himself to unconsciousness because he thinks I’m going to die. Do I look like I’m going to die to you?” Her voice raises a notch at that and she bits down a cry of frustration when Karen reaches out for her hand and clutches it between hers. 

“You are not dying,” Kevin declares. He sounds calm, convincing even, but Kenny can see the way he tries to conceal his shaking fist behind his back. 

Kevin’s words, however, fall on deaf ears. Carol lets another cry of frustration and her outburst irritates her already sore throat, which turns whatever she wanted to say next into an uncontrollable coughing fit. 

The thee brothers share a quick, panicked look. 

“Should I bring you some water?” the older sibling asks rushing to his mother’s side and helping her into a sitting position. 

“I’ll go!” Karen exclaims. She shoots up from the chair and runs out of the door before anyone can stop her. Carol mutters a ‘wait’ between coughs but it never quite reaches her children’s ears. Seeing how pointless talking is, she puts her hands over her mouth instead, trying to suffocate that annoying barking sound. 

“Mom?” Kenny asks. His heart stops in his chest at every gasp for breath Carol takes, but then, as sudden as it came, the coughing fit is gone. 

“Kevin,” Carol says reaching out for him and digging her fingers into his shirt. “Go to Karen and keep her out of my room for a while.” 

Kenny’s eyes search Kevin’s ones but his brother looks as lost as him. When neither of them moves, Carol shifts her position on her bed and makes an irritated hand gesture at Kevin, urging him to do as she said. A hurt look flashes across Kevin’s face, and Carol’s shoulders drop. 

“Please, I need to talk to Kenny alone,” she says, softer this time, “you know what for.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation before Kevin finally nods in understanding, and Carol heaves a sigh of relief when her oldest kid does as told and leaves, closing the door behind him. She keeps quite for a long moment, letting her eyes wander around the room to the two occupied beds lined against the opposite wall. The patients are not paying them any attention, and Carol feels free to speak. 

“Kenny,” she calls him, enjoys the way his name rolls on her tongue. “My baby,” she says. Her hand cups his cheek again, and Kenny wonders if he should have kept Kevin from leaving. Whatever his mom wants to tell him, Kenny is not going to like it. He’s sure of it, as sure as he is that Carol knows she is going to die and she is just pretending to be fine to make her children feel some kind of hope for her future. 

Fear buzzes under his skin. 

He has laid on a hospital bed many times before, has died in one a few times. It’s horrible, from the bleach trying to cover the stench of blood and suffering to the pain in his arm as the syringe finds his vein. What’s worse, there’s the grasp of Death suffocating him while he lays in sheets as white as Her. 

It’s terrifying. He knows what his mother is feeling right now. He knows that she is struggling to come to terms with this. Chemotherapy? They can’t afford it. It doesn’t matter what Kyle says. None of the McCormicks will allow a stranger to pay for it. Pity is the last thing they need right now. 

And his mother knows. She is afraid and wants to believe that she is not. She is going to explain to him that everything is going to be alright, maybe give him some advice in case she does die, and Kenny is not ready for this kind of speech. Where’s Kevin? Where’s Karen? Where’s Kyle? He needs him. Now more than ever. Here. 

“Baby,” Carol’s voice pushes him out of his thoughts, and Kenny leans farther away from her. Maybe, if he puts some distance between the two, Carol will change her mind and ask him to bring Kevin and Karen back. Nevertheless, her mind is already set: 

“I think it’s time we talk about some things,” Carol says. 

“What things?” Kenny asks, knitting his eyebrows when Carol’s expression flashes with guilt.

“I lied to you for too many years,” Carol says. “I don’t want to take this to the grave. You have to listen.”

“Mom, you are not going to die,” Kenny says, but she shushes him with just one look. 

“Right now I feel fine,” Carol says, a quiver of uncertainty in her voice, “but you never know. Baby, honey, I love you so much.” 

Kenny’s throat closes up.

“Mom…”

“I loved Craig too,” Carol says, shocking him into silence. “He was a good kid. He wanted the best for you and I should have listened to him when he said I should be frank with you. He knew better.”

“Craig? My Craig?” Kenny asks, searching his mother’s face for some kind of clue but finding none. 

“He knew you die,” Carol says, straight to the point, “and stood by your side when you come back, something I’ve never did. I’m so sorry, honey. You didn’t deserve all of this.”

Eyes wide, Kenny’s lips part in shock. 

“You…?”

Carol’s guilty look is all Kenny needs to slam his mouth shut. An excruciating pain twists his guts and breaks his heart into a million of tiny pieces. As if someone has shoved ice cubes down his shirt, Kenny starts shaking.

“I know you die.” 

Carol’s voice echoes in the small room like thunder, but maybe it’s just in Kenny’s head. The other two patients look incredibly calm in their small beds, too focused in their own pain to actually give a damn to a mother and her son. 

“It took me an incredible amount of time to figure things out,” Carol begins. 

The words are out of her mouth one after the other, a hail of bullets Kenny can’t dodge. She tells him about all the hours spent researching, how she wasn’t sure Kenny really died or it was something else, how she gives birth to him every time it happens, how she used to drive back to his apartment with him in the backseat, how Craig started doing it instead way before they dated for real. She talks to him about the Cthulhu’s cult and how little she actually knows about them. She tells him she never remembers him dying. She apologizes, cries into her hands as she does. Does Stuart know? It’s a yes and a no. He’s there when she gives birth to Kenny, but he forgets faster than her. Craig kept notes. She has a small blue notebook filled with crosses, one for each time Kenny died in the two years they had been dating. 

Kenny doesn’t know what to make of this information. 

For a single moment he thinks he’s not alone anymore, never has been. 

And guilt envelopes him immediately after.

“Do you think your sickness has something to do with me?” Kenny asks, his voice dropping to a whisper. Carol quickly shakes her head no.

“Of course not,” she reassures him, but Kenny doesn’t believe her. 

A woman’s body can’t get pregnant and go into labor in a matter of hours. It’s a delicate progress that exhausts her and weakens her body. How many times does the average woman give birth? Carol McCormick did it hundreds of times, for more than twenty years. Since Kenny McCormick was born, her body prepared itself to deliver him again. Surely, that took a toll on her. That’s why she got cancer now. 

Kenny McCormick is the reason why his mother is dying right now. 

All he touches is destined to die. 

It doesn’t matter if he’s in South Park or far away. 

It would have been better if Kenny McCormick had never existed. 

* * *

Holding the paper cup in his hands, Kyle watches as Karen nervously paces around the cafeteria, a black painted nail between her front teeth. Kevin, however, is set on having her there with them and doesn’t take his eyes off of her, not once. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t leave Kenny and your mother on their own,” Kyle suggests, tapping his feet against the floor under the little plastic table his sitting at. Before him, Kevin shakes his head no. 

“I went through that speech before,” Kevin says, “and it’s not pretty. I don’t want Karen to hear a word of it, or else she’s going to get sick with worry.”

“Your mother is going to be fine, nowadays—!” 

“Listen,” Kevin cuts him off, “it doesn’t matter. If mom feels better after getting _that_ out of her system, then Kenny can man up for once in his life and listen to her.” 

At Kyle’s disapproving look, Kevin’s expression darkness. 

“You see,” Kevin says, “she says it’s not true, but everybody knows Karen is her favorite. Mom is going to tell Kenny how much she loves him and to take care of his sister in case something happens to her. It’s heartbreaking. She made me swear to look after my siblings and dad too. I told her everything is going to be alright, that the chemotherapy might save her life, but she refuses. Financially speaking, it’s going to be a pain in the ass, but I’m willing to pay the price. She doesn’t want me to. A moment she says she feels fine and the next she looks like a woman who knows Death it’s at her feet, waiting. I hated it, and Kenny is going to hate it too, so I want to spare Karen the pain.” 

Kyle fidgets in his seat and takes a sip of his already cold coffee. He has offered the McCormicks something to drink too, but both vigorously declined. Things just got awkward after that. It’s strange to stay in the same room with them, considering they never talked a lot, not that long at least. Having Kevin stare at him like he’s a rich snob makes him uneasy. He reminds him of Stuart, the way his eyes study his face as if he’s scum, and Kyle doesn’t like it one bit. 

It takes him a while to realize that Kevin is not like his dad at all.

“So, how come you’re with Kenny?” Kevin asks, obviously trying to change the conversation to something more casual. “I thought you guys weren’t talking anymore.” 

Kyle wonders if he should tell Kevin the whole truth but opts for something simple: 

“We met by change.” 

“Aha.” Kevin casts his eyes down to the plastic table, scratching a dried coffee stain with his fingernails. “You’re in college or something?” 

“Yes,” Kyle replies, “law school.”

“Of course.”

“It’s not because my dad is a lawyer,” Kyle immediately defends himself. “Or because my mom pushed me into it. I thought hard about it.”

“Yes, well,” Kevin says. “It’s a life-changing choice.” 

Kyle expects Kevin to tease him about it, but his tone of voice is anything but mocking. If Kyle didn’t know better, Kevin looks actually impressed. 

“I wish Kenny went to college too,” Kevin says. “I’ve always pictured him in art school. Or linguistics. Do you remember his letters? His style could be very pompous. Mr. Garrison always teased him for it, remember?” 

Kyle licks his lips nervously. He does. He has teased Kenny too, behind his back. 

“But he decided to start working straight away instead,” Kevin says. “I still wonder why he never considered moving in to Harrisburg when he finished school, but I guess it’s better for mom to have one kid at least close by.” 

“He could have stayed in South Park then,” Kyle says, and Kevin’s laugh takes him completely by surprise. 

“Why? _Did you_?” Kevin asks, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “This town is shit. We’ve always been looked down on for being poor and Kenny deserved to know what it’s like to be regarded as a normal human being. I don’t blame him, really. You were his friends, yes, but like all kids you never noticed how lonely he really was. He’s always been different from you. He’s been working since he’s ten to help his family out, while you did it to buy the new PSP game or something. He enjoyed your company, but he’s always been the poor kid to you, so he kind of resented you for it. Oh, don’t worry. I guess he got over it, already.” 

“So you think he left without a word because he thought we didn’t care either way?” Kyle asks, affronted at the mere suggestion. 

“Probably,” Kevin says and at Kyle’s shocked expression, he bursts out laughing again. “Don’t look at me like that. I said _probably_. Maybe he’s just a dickhead.” 

“You’re his brother, you should know.” 

Kevin grins. “For the record, I can’t get inside Kenny’s head. Even if he’s my baby brother, I never could read him like an open book. He’s fucking good at keeping his emotions bottled up. It would have been a lot easier if he were like you. You have quite a temper.” 

“I-!” Kyle starts, flushing, and Kevin chuckles. 

“You see!” he exclaims, pointing his finger at him. “You are going to do it again.” 

Taking a big breath, Kyle forces himself to calm down. 

“Now I understand why Kenny liked you so much,” Kevin says, spirits lifted. At that, Kyle’s heart does a flip in his chest, and he rubs the back of his neck, a question ready at the tip of his tongue. What does Kenny think of him really? But then again, how should Kevin know? 

“Hey,” Kevin says, picking up on Kyle’s nervousness. “Kenny is a stubborn guy, just like you, but I’m sure he was going to get in touch with you sooner or later. He needs time for everything. Maybe he just wanted to settle down and be financially at your level, or close by, before he tried to talk to you again. He wants to be regarded as your equal.”

Kyle looks away in embarrassment. He doesn’t know what to say and he hates how vulnerable that makes him feel, so he finishes his coffee instead, crashing the paper cup in his fist. 

“Kevin!” 

Caught up in their conversation, neither Kyle nor Kevin noticed Karen leaving the cafeteria ten minutes before. Now, here’s she is, panic flashing in her eyes as she looks around in search of someone. 

“Kevin!” she cries again, “Kenny is not with mom anymore!” 

The two boys look up from the table with identical puzzled looks, but it’s Kyle who springs into action first. 

“I’ll search for him!” Kyle exclaims and shooting a reassuring smile Karen’s way, walks towards the exit. 

* * *

The sun edged down the horizon, and he drifted his eyes to his dashboard, tinted in violet and orange, two of child’s favorite colors. The car engine crackled as it cooled down, and he listened to it for a long silent moment before he finally decided to get out of the truck. 

A glance at the rear-view mirror revealed his long, oval face and his aquiline nose, but no sign of the accident that had happened a mere second before. The stench of fresh blood seeping into his nose, however, told him it was already over. With a sigh, he pushed the driver’s door open and jumped down from the cab. 

Walking towards the back of the truck, the man watched the long shadow the dying sun was casting at his feet. Interesting how that never changed, no matter his form. 

He saw his Eldritch child first, slumped over the steering wheel, blood trickling down a half horrified smile. Oh, he’s beautiful. Death made him stronger, and the man was tempted to reach down and run his fingers through his soft, blond hair. He couldn’t. His lingering scent would scare the rats away, and he was not in the mood to dispose of the body on his own. 

Such a waste.

With that thought, the man shot an irritated glance at the Camaro that had crashed into his Favorite’s car. A dreadful accident. There were not supposed to be any witnesses, after all. The man inside the Camaro, however, didn’t stir when he tapped his front window with his pale knuckles.

He’s wasting time. 

Following his own shadow, the man turned back to his Favorite’s car and walked around to the passenger’s side. Two blue eyes watched his every move but didn’t blink when the man forcefully pulled the door open. 

“Craig Tucker,” the man greeted him. His contrite smile didn’t melt into anything gentler. It was difficult for him to express human emotions, and, frankly, he never cared to practice. Craig Tucker was breathing heavily, head pressed against the headrest as he tried to push himself in a sitting position. His right arm was twisted at an awkward angle, resting on the metal of his car’s door. It must have hurt. 

There was a gurgling sound coming out of Craig’s throat. He tried to move his head to his left, but all he could was hiss in pain.

“Don’t move,” the man ordered him. “Kenny McCormick is going to be fine. His beautiful dead form is not a sight you should depart with.” 

Craig’s diaphragm contracted, his muscles tensed with every breathe he tried to take. 

“I’m impressed, Craig,” the man continued. “The sweet Carol McCormick mentioned the Lord’s name just once and you managed to get to me. You are a smart child, aren’t you? People didn’t give you enough credit.”

Craig couldn’t answer him, so the man felt free to continue speaking, forcing the corners of his mouth in a tight smile. 

“Remember what you asked me? If it was possible to lift Kenny’s curse, if we may regard it as such? Do you remember what I told you?” 

Craig blinked once. 

“Yes, you do remember.” The man opened the door wider. It creaked eerily under his fingers. “This is something no one can break. The Eldritch _must_ live, and how can He do it without a Vessel? Provide me with one and we have a deal, I said. Remember that?” 

Craig kept quiet. His breathing became rapid and shallow while a veil caressed his dark blue eyes. A soft moan. 

“What did you say?” The man leaned down, closer to Craig’s mouth. “Oh, yes. I do remember. You refused. I tried to explain to you what a gift an immortal life was and you said, correct me if I’m wrong, what is an immortal life when you are dead inside. Oh, my child, those are words of a man who has never died yet.” 

A shuffling, squeaking sound momentarily distracted the man from what he wanted to say next, but he didn’t dare to look up towards his Eldritch child. He kept his eyes on Craig instead, studied his pained face and the blood on the dashboard. 

“But now you are,” the man said. “Now, you are afraid of Darkness. Now, you wish an immortal life, don’t you child? You are leaving a lot of people behind, your parents, a sister, friends and acquaintances. And Kenny McCormick, of course.”

Silence.

“Don’t you wish to see him again?” 

Craig closed his eyes, a gentle titillation of his head.

“Tell me, Craig. Do you want to swap places? Are you afraid of Death now?” the man prodded, behind him a start shone brighter. 

Craig forced his eyes open and blinked once.

Darkness. 


	13. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a small chapter, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. If you see any mistake, let me know. As always, feedback is always highly appreciated! <3

Kyle finds Kenny sitting on the only bench by Stark’s Pond, a faraway look in his sky blue eyes. Gaze fixed on the lake, he doesn’t even look up when Kyle sits next to him. The wooden slats creak under the redhead’s weight, and Kenny moves a little closer until their shoulders brush gently against each other. 

The landscape around them is anything but quiet. Ducks quack, birds chirp, even the gentle lapping of the waves against the lake shore could be described as deafening in comparison to the comfortable silence the two share. 

Kyle is glad he has found Kenny so easily. 

Truth be told, he has no idea how he did that. 

Mind blank, Kyle has let his feet lead him to Kenny, opting to follow his heart rather than panic and make a list of all the places the blond boy might have ran to. 

And here’s the thing, when it comes to Kenny, Kyle doesn’t need to think much. He knows what to do, and if people ask how, Kyle cannot answer. He just _knows_ what Kenny needs.

It took him so long to realize something so simple. 

Unexpectedly, it’s Kenny who breaks the silence first, answering a question Kyle doesn’t need to utter out loud. 

“I needed some fresh air.” Eyes fixed on the ground, Kenny absentmindedly covers his mouth with the front of his jacket. 

“You made a poor choice, Ken. This place stinks,” Kyle says, scrunching his nose at the musty odor coming from the lake. There’s a comment about anaerobic bacteria and planktonic algae on the tip of his tongue but it’s gone the moment Kenny bursts out laughing. That’s a nice sound, much better than annoying ducks. 

The smile that tugs the corner of Kyle’s lips earns Kenny’s attention. His eyes drift towards it, shifting upwards to the little dimples that appear on Kyle’s cheeks. 

And his gaze stays there even when Kyle turns his head to stare at him. The redhead arches an eyebrow in question, and Kenny finds it hard to tear his gaze away. 

“Hmmm….” Kenny pulls his jacket further up until the cold metal of the zipper touches his nose. “I didn’t want to see my mother looking like that anymore.” 

“Kevin said something about chemo?” Kyle asks, tilting his head to the side. Kenny tries his best not to be distracted by that patch of skin between Kyle’s ear and neck. 

“Not gonna happen, dude,” Kenny says. 

“I-!” 

“No, Kyle.” Kenny cuts him off, before Kyle can make his offer. “I’m not going to let you pay for us.” 

“I wasn’t—!” A sigh. Kyle drops it. “Okay, Kenny.”

Kenny falls silent again and Kyle exhales slowly through his pursed lips. Leg bouncing up and down out of nervousness, Kyle has no idea what to do with all that pent up energy he feels running through his veins. All he wants is to go back to Hell Pass and take matters into his hands, call the best doctors in town, go back home and arrange Ike’s now empty room so that Kenny can stay with them for the time being. He wants to do that and even more. Sitting on his hands is not Kyle’s thing. His top priority right now is to make Kenny happy and Kenny won’t let him. 

Kenny, in contrast, sits perfectly still next to him, apparently at peace with himself. He accepts things as they are, and Kyle wonders: where does his strength come from? Kyle feels vulnerable when things don’t go his way. How can Kenny look so unfazed by everything that’s happening right now? 

There was only one man who could take things as they came, and that was Craig. 

At that thought, Kyle feels a pang in his heart. The sudden realization is a slap across the face. Craig’s apparent apathy has somehow rubbed off on Kenny and it doesn’t suit him at all. 

Kenny is just pretending to be fine. 

Kyle needs to stir him up. 

But how? That’s the question. Kyle is ready to consider the pros and cons of each and every option he has but he refrains from doing so. A glance at Kenny’s pensive look is all he needs to think of a plan.

“Let’s go,” Kyle says shooting up and stretching his hand to Kenny. Puzzlement flashes across Kenny’s face but Kyle just flicks his wrist in frustration. “Let’s go play basketball,” he explains, blushing slightly when he notices Kenny’s lips quirk upwards at that. “It’s been a while.” 

Kenny’s gaze drifts down to Kyle’s outstretched hand, staring at it with morbid curiosity. Kyle almost lets it drop to his side but then Kenny makes his move and intertwines their fingers together. 

“Sure,” Kenny says. Even though he is perfectly capable of standing on his own, he uses Kyle’s hand as a lever and pushes himself back on his feet. Kyle is so stunned he almost stumbles forwards, right into Kenny’s arms, but manages to regain his balance before he can make a fool of himself. 

“Let’s go,” Kyle huffs and whips around to his embarrassment. Behind him, Kenny giggles. 

Since South Park is not a big metropolitan city, it doesn’t take them long to reach the basketball court from Stark’s Pond on foot. What used to be one of their favorite playgrounds is now surrounded by a rusted chain-link fence. The wearing layer of the playing surface is anything but smooth, but there’s the unmistakable stench of plastic and sweat, which takes them both back in time to when they were young and the court was still new. The wave of nostalgia is so sudden that Kenny has to lean against the fence for a second to regain his senses. 

In his mind’s eye, a sixteen year old boy is playing basketball with his friends. Red hair tied up, he is striving to win, flashing a big grin whenever he catches Kenny staring at him. 

In his memory, there’s another boy watching from the stands along with everybody else. Hair raven black, a bored expression on his face, he’s there because Token and Clyde are playing. That’s said, he definitely looks more interested in what the blond boy sitting next to him has to say rather than Clyde making a fool of himself against Kyle. 

“Look!” Kyle gives a shout out to him, and Kenny is catapulted back into the present again. His eyes follow Kyle as he crosses the court to reach one of the rings. 

There is an old basketball abandoned in the middle of the growing weed. Kyle picks it up, gently holding it in his hands with wonder in his eyes before he snaps his wrist and abruptly sends the ball into the ground. Against all expectation, it gracefully bounces back up. With a grin, Kyle catches it with his fingers and throws it right into the hoop above his head. 

When Kyle catches Kenny staring he flashes a big grin at him. The ball falls back into Kyle’s open palms. 

“Show off!” Kenny shouts but Kyle’s grin only grows wider. 

Dribbling the ball between his legs, Kyle slowly walks over to Kenny and throws it at his head, bursting out laughing when Kenny almost gets hit. 

“You play dirty, Broflovski,” Kenny says, feeling the corner of his lips twist upwards. 

“Shut up and play, McCormick,” Kyle snaps, but there is no spite in his voice, just the excitement of a guy reunited with a lost lover. 

When Kyle’s tender look meets Kenny’s eyes, his heart skips a beat. 

“You’re on!” Kenny exclaims and slid off his jacket. 

Five minutes into the game and it’s immediately obvious how bad Kenny is at dribbling. Be that as it may, he tries his best to guard his part of the court from Kyle’s skillful moves. The ball bounces back and forth between the two, their sneakers squeak against the gravel. They are not friends; they are part of a one-man team competing against each other. Eyes on the game, their reputation is at stake. Steal the ball from your opponent, dribble, run, shoot the ball right into the ring! 

Kyle is definitely winning.

Kyle knows by the way Kenny huffs in annoyance, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His blond hair sticks out everywhere and his cheeks are rosy from the exertion. It’s distracting, but Kyle reminds himself that Kenny is not his friend right now. This court is a battlefield and they are both fighting for victory—

“Hah!” 

Kyle has been staring too much. Kenny takes advantage of it and slaps the ball out of Kyle’s grasp. Kyle immediately tries to block him, but it’s too late. Kenny is back to Kyle’s side of the court in two strides, slightly bends his legs and throws the ball into the hoop. 

They’re even. 

“Up yours, Broflovski!” 

Grin wide, Kenny turns his back to the bouncing ball to flip Kyle off. 

He’s gorgeous. Kyle is stunned to silence. A small drop of sweat trickles down his forehead right into the corner of his eye, and Kyle flicks it off with his thumb. He doesn’t want anything to impair his vision. Nothing should stand between him and Kenny, not when he looks so ecstatic, so happy, so... 

Kenny’s smile is blinding. Hands up in the air, Kenny whoops and laughs, unaware of the warmth that forms in the middle of Kyle’s chest at the sight. 

Whatever that is, it digs its fingers into Kyle’s heart and tugs. A light switches on, it brightens Kyle’s whole existence, and his guts twist pleasantly in retaliation. Kenny makes Kyle happy, that’s all there is to it. 

Dropping his hands to the side, Kyle cannot stop staring. 

“God, I love you.”

The words are out before Kyle's mind can register them. 

Kenny’s grin freezes. 

His eyes wander over Kyle’s face, searching for some kind of clue, and Kyle keeps his head high, because he was never one to back down from a challenge. His embarrassment is weaker than his pride, so Kyle stays strong and holds Kenny’s gaze. 

And Kenny’s gaze softens.

“I didn’t know you were into S&M,” Kenny says, his lopsided smile sends shivers run down Kyle’s spine. “I just _kicked_ your ass.” 

“That remains to be seen,” Kyle says, daring to take a step forwards. Kenny remains still. 

“So what’s going to be our safe word, Ky?” Kenny teases him, waggling his eyebrows when Kyle snorts. They are a step away from standing face to face. They are both panting, and Kenny’s breath pleasantly caresses his cheek. 

“We don’t need safe words,” Kyle says and Kenny arches an eyebrow at him. Kyle feels lost into the blue of Kenny’s eyes. 

“Good to know we are going to have a very intense sexual relationship.” 

“You make it sound like all we’ll ever want to do is have sex,” Kyle says rolling his eyes to the sky. He finally pushes himself away from Kenny’s personal space and walks to the abandoned ball. 

Kenny laughs. “Well, I don’t expect you to take me out to dinner in some fancy restaurant every night.” 

“Why not?” Kyle asks picking the basketball up and bouncing it between his hands again. This time it’s Kenny who rolls his eyes. 

“First of all, I won’t let you,” Kenny says, “and second of all, watching romcoms is not our thing.” 

“Fine,” Kyle concedes, handing Kenny the ball, “but do you really think so low of me? It’s not like all I think about is sex.” 

“What else do I have to offer?” 

The ball is back to Kyle and it almost slips from his fingers. 

“What the fuck, Kenny.” 

Kenny keeps silent, and Kyle passes the ball to him with a flick of his wrists. 

“If I ever date you I would give my all to make you happy,” Kyle declares, ignoring the surprised look that appears on Kenny’s face. 

“Kyle,” Kenny’s whisper knocks the wind out of him. “That’s nice and all, but the truth is we would break up in a month.” 

“God damn it, Kenny.” 

“You deserve someone much better than me.” 

The ball bounces and rolls towards Kyle’s feet. 

Staring at it, Craig’s name suddenly pops in Kyle’s mind, spoiling his good mood. The shape of Craig’s body stands between the two, an arm around Kenny’s shoulder. It makes Kyle sick to the stomach. 

“What about Craig?” Kyle asks, picking the ball back up. 

“I didn’t deserve him either.” A broken whisper that breaks Kyle’s heart.

“What the fuck,” Kyle snaps. His blood starts boiling in his veins, a prickling sensation under his skin. He tosses the ball back to Kenny, who quickly catches it between his hands. “The one who didn’t deserve you was that cheating bastard.” 

There’s always Craig looming in the back of Kyle’s mind. Craig, who knew what it’s like to date Kenny McCormick, who dared cheating on him and got killed in the process. Kyle thinks back to the video and wonders how Kenny could fall in love with a guy like him. 

Suddenly Kenny fiercely throws the ball at him. The blow stops Kyle’s heart. 

“Don’t talk about Craig in that way,” Kenny hisses. “You can’t possibly understand what he had to go through for me.”

Kyle’s grip on the basketball tightens. 

“I don’t understand how you can possibly defend him,” Kyle snaps. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kenny retorts. His fingers linger above the collar of his shirt, as if searching for the zipper of his jacket, but find nothing but air. Shoulder rolling forwards in defense, Kenny’s narrows his gaze. 

Kyle scrunches his nose and drops the ball, following it with it eyes as it bounces slightly against the ground before Kenny stops it with his right foot. It’s time that Kyle reveals the truth to his friend. 

“There’s something you need to know about Craig,” Kyle finally finds the strength to tell him. Irritation flashes in his eyes when Kenny crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I talked to the police,” Kyle begins, “and saw the photos of the car crash.” 

He hesitates and Kenny suddenly becomes more on edge. Better to get this over soon.

“He wasn’t alone in that car, Kenny,” Kyle says. “And he wasn’t driving either. Someone killed him and it’s highly likely that it was his—” For once in his life, Kyle loses his speech. 

Frustrated, he exhales air from his nose and runs a hand through his messy hair. Kenny is silent before him. His mouth forms a thin line, but the expression on his face is anything but hostile. 

“What I want to say is-!” Kyle tries again but Kenny shushes him. 

“Craig was murdered by his lover, is that it, Kyle?” Kenny asks, his tone of voice barely above a whisper. Kyle lowers his gaze. 

“Yes,” Kyle says, “and I wish I could find the guy and-!” 

“Do what?” Kenny asks, soft, understanding. “Lecture him?” 

“No, I-!” Kyle swears under his breath and puts his hands on his waist in frustration. “I hate him for what he did to you, to both of you.” 

Kenny’s snort catches Kyle completely off guard. 

“I do too,” Kenny says. Kyle forces himself to look at him and his heart flips in his chest when he notices the red swelling at the corner of Kenny’s eyes. 

“Kenny,” Kyle asks, surprised. “How much do you know?” 

“More than you do,” Kenny replies, letting out a shaky breath. “I was there, after all.” 

Kyle’s almost stumbles back by the pain seeping through Kenny’s words. 

“I murdered him,” Kenny says. 

“Kenny,” Kyle warns, taking a tentative step forwards. “It’s not your fault that-!” 

“No, it’s true,” Kenny says, the words flooding out of his mouth. “I killed him. I was in the car with him. We were going stargazing and I got distracted. That’s how we crashed into that damned truck. I should have seen it but I did not. That’s what happened. That’s why you don’t deserve me, Ky. You need someone better in your life, not a scum like me. You are going to go far, I drag behind. You are going to do great things, I bring destruction. I killed Craig and now I killed my mom and I don’t want to kill you too-!” 

“Shut it,” Kyle said but Kenny doesn’t. 

“I killed Craig,” Kenny says, the tears now flowing freely, “and I survived. I’m alive and he’s not. Who knows who I am going to kill next! Please, Kyle, believe me when I say I can’t die. I’m a monster and-!” 

“Knock it off, Kenny!” Kyle snaps. 

“You have to believe me!” Kenny exclaims. 

Kyle is by his side in two strides. 

He pulls him into a crushing hug and keeps him there, feeling his heart beat fast against Kenny’s chest. The survivor syndrome, isn’t that how they call it? Kyle has read about it and now he has living proof of its existence right in front of his nose. It smells like Kenny, it’s a warm body between his arms. 

Maybe it’s true. Maybe Kenny has been the one driving, but why move Craig’s body? Was he in shock when he did? No, it’s impossible. How did Kenny even survive? 

“I believe you,” Kyle whispers because he knows that’s what Kenny needs to hear. Maye it’s true. Maybe Kenny is a witness. Maybe Craig has been driving. The piece of fabric trapped in the window’s trim seal is a coincidence. It had been there all along. 

Hiding his face in the crook of Kyle’s neck, Kenny sobs. 

But what does it matter? 

“I believe you,” Kyle repeats, tightening his grasp around Kenny’s shoulders. “But believe _me_ when I say you didn’t kill anyone, Kenny,” he whispers in his ear, burying his nose in Kenny’s hair. “It was an accident. It was a fucking accident.” 

“It wasn’t-!” 

“It was,” Kyle says, final. “And you didn’t kill your mom. She’s going to be okay.” 

And for once Kenny believes him. 


	14. Chapter 12

“That’s the guy!” Tricia seethes, pointing at the man talking with the Tuckers in front of their household. 

Stan slides down the driver’s seat until all he can see it’s the steering wheel in front of his nose. It’s extremely uncomfortable, but their plans would be futile if the Tuckers catch them spying on them. He tugs Tricia’s sleeve to do the same, but the girl just slaps his hand away and keeps her eyes on her parents. 

Sighing, Stan sits up properly again. 

The shit he’s putting up with… 

There were all kinds of holes in their plan.

Stan is sure they could have come up with something better to justify his sudden interest in taking Tricia to the movies. She couldn’t say she has not been warned. When Stan told her her parents would not believe the two were dating, she just flipped him off and said everything was going to be alright. 

Those painstakingly long moments spent in the Tucker’s household have not been the exact definition of ‘alright’, if Stan is being honest. 

Not to mention, it has been extremely awkward to assure Laura Tucker that his intentions with Tricia were serious. 

“ _Stan Marsh_ is dating my daughter! Holy shit, I mean... I’m so happy for you!” 

Granted, Laura seemed glad that Tricia was finally going out again, but it was obvious she wasn’t buying their whole secret dating story either. Fortunately for them, the Tuckers were too busy covering their own lies to uncover their daughter’s. 

All in all, Stan did a pretty good job at keeping his face straight. He swore he would keep his lunch inside his stomach and kept his promise by not puking on Tricia’s dress when Thomas warned them about condoms. 

After that conversation, following a criminal suspect is child’s play.

“I’ve never saw that car before,” Tricia says. The surprise in her voice snaps Stan out of his thoughts. He stretches his neck, arching an eyebrow when a white Chevrolet Camaro pulls to a stop in front of the driveway. Before their eyes, Brian Scott and Tricia’s parents slide into the back seat. A door is slammed shut, the engine rumbles to life, and Stan does his best to start his Ford Fiesta. It takes him more than it should; his fingers are shaking and his feet don’t quite align with the pedals. 

“Follow them!” Tricia orders, stomping her foot down for emphasis. 

“I’m trying. Jesus Christ,” Stan groans. 

Tricia is at the edge of her seat, she hasn’t even put her seatbelt on. Stan maintains a safe trailing distance and thanks whatever deity is watching over them for the fact the other driver is keeping a normal running speed. The girl next to him is paler than usual, but Stan doubts he looks any better. 

They drive on, leaving South Park behind and venturing into the countryside ten minutes later. At this point, the white Camaro suddenly speeds up and kicks up a huge cloud of dust. Stan keeps driving normally, as if the reduced visibility is just a minor inconvenience. 

“Do you think they saw us?” Stan asks. The guttural sound escaping Tricia’s throat doesn’t reassure him in the least. The Camaro is now a dot in the distance, and Stan wonders if they should make a U-turn and go back home. 

As if Tricia could read his mind, she says: “Keep driving.” 

Stan does. 

The minutes tick painfully by. The dust is the only sign of the white car’s position in the middle of the corn fields. 

“I think there’s a barn there,” Tricia says, tapping her finger on the front window. Spotting an abandoned tractor to his right, Stan nods. Without a warning, he turns abruptly left and drives the car into the vegetation, away from the road. Next to him, Tricia swears under her breath, letting out a pained cry when her forehead bumps on the side window. 

“What the fuck!” she yells. 

Without dignifying her glare with an apology, Stan unfastens his seatbelt. “We need to proceed on foot.” 

“Warn me next time, you fucker!” Tricia exclaims instead and rubs her aching forehead, hissing when she touches a sore spot. 

Perhaps walking through the corn fields is not the stealthiest way to get closer to their suspects, but it’s all they can do. The cawing of the ravens muffles the sound of their steps, while the rustling of the corn leaves as they brush past them drowns the beating of their hearts. 

Finally, they step out into a farmyard, only to bump right into the parked Camaro. On their right, an abandoned barn stands above them, bright red against the blue sky. They dare a glance towards it, but there is no light peering through the windows. There is no trace of Tricia’s parents either; it is as if there is no one there but them. 

“Where are they?” Tricia asks, unconsciously stepping closer to Stan. Before he could voice his opinion, the driver’s door is suddenly pushed open and Brian Scott appears in front of them, straightening his suit nonchalantly. A smile flashes across his face; crooked, fake, it looks like the bad copy of a smirk.

Without thinking, Stan grabs Tricia by the shoulder and pulls her away, putting his body in front of hers like a human shield. 

“Miss Tucker,” Brian Scott greets, drifting his gaze from Stan to Tricia’s face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Tricia and Stan share a meaningful look. 

“If you are looking for your parents, my child, they are already inside for the ceremony,” Scott says, intertwining his fingers together. 

Tricia’s shock is clear on her face. “The ceremony?” 

Glancing down at the girl’s clenched fists, Stan pulls her closer to him. Bored, the man lazily glances towards the abandoned barn, letting his lips twist further upwards when he focuses his attention back on her. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Tricia asks. 

The answer is immediate: “Brian Scott.” 

“What a bunch of bullshit,” Stan says without thinking and flinches when Scott’s cold stare is suddenly directed at him. 

“What humans call me does not matter, Mr. Marsh,” he says. “You can call me Scott, Parker, Lovecraft, Lovejoy… it is all the same to me. I always believed that a man’s true nature is much more important than a bunch of letters sewn together.” 

Silence falls between the three of them. 

As the wind blows over the corn fields, Stan feels shivers run down his spine. Despite the sun shining bright above them, the atmosphere is suddenly gloomy, wintry even. 

“I suggest you both go home,” Scott says in an incredibly calm voice. “Your presence at the ceremony is not needed.” 

“What ceremony?” Tricia cries, the anger seeping through her voice. Stan tries to hush her with just a look, but it’s useless. She is ready to lash out, and Scott is barely suppressing his glee at that. 

“It would be an honor to have you, I assure you,” he says, “but your presence would only distract your parents from their purpose and I can’t allow that to happen.” 

“This guy’s nuts,” Stan mutters, taking a huge step backwards and dragging Tricia with him. “We need to call the police!” 

“I need answers first!” Tricia exclaims. She frees herself from Stan’s hold and turns to face Scott head on. “You were the truck driver! You were there when Craig died! What’s your deal with my parents? Why did you seek them out? Why--!” 

“Tricia!” Stan exclaims, trying to shut her up. Scott’s cackle freezes them to the spot. 

“I understand your rage, Miss Tucker,” Scott says, “but you should be happy that our Lord and Savior has chosen your brother as our next Favorite. He has a wonderful soul. Few would make a deal with God to save their loved ones, and I gladly did what I had to do to grant his wishes. Your parents are very proud of Craig, I assure you, and Mrs. Tucker is thrilled to give her body to our Lord for him. She is young and strong, a perfect replacement for the weak woman we have used till now.” 

“We have to get out of here!” Stan turns around to face Tricia, but the amazed expression on her face catches him off-guard. 

“Soon, my child,” Scott says, taking a careful step forwards, “you are going to get back what you have lost. This is our gift…” 

“Tricia-!” Stan tries again, loud enough so that his voice momentarily covers Scott’s. The girl’s glazed over eyes send shivers down his spine. 

“… until the next Favorite comes to us, consider yourselves in our debt.” 

Holding Tricia by the shoulder, he turns to look at Scott with fear. Drenched in cold sweat, the sun is scorching hot on Stan’s skin. An irrational sensation, like the love for something unknown shining in Scott’s cold eyes. 

“Mr. Marsh,” the man says, piercing Stan’s soul with just a glance, “you should be thankful too. If it weren’t for Craig Tucker’s deal, your friend’s death would have been unavoidable. Changing vessels can be fatal, but we did our best to let him survive. Now, go home and forget about all of this. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, my child. I’ve never existed. The Tuckers visit the cemetery every day. The Cthulhu’s cult is just an urban myth. All you want to do right now is to keep living and have fun, like humans do.” 

That said, Brian Scott turns on his heels and slowly walks to the abandoned barn. Stan watches him but all he sees is a blurred figure in the distance. He should go home. Where did he park his car? Oh, yeah. Let’s take the car and go home. Tricia… do you want to go to the movies? Let’s go before the trailers end. It’s going to be fun. 

Yeah, it’s going to be fun. 

* * *

It’s been three hours since Kenny said yes, but Kyle still cannot believe the blond has actually accepted his proposal. Truth be told, he thought Kenny would have preferred to spend some time with his siblings rather than stay the night with the Broflovskis. It’s weird how this arrangement makes Kyle feel giddy and light-headed, like a child on Christmas morning. He’s so excited that the thought of telling Kenny that maybe family should be his first priority doesn’t even cross his mind. 

Kenny is there, with him, that’s all that matters. 

Sheila and Gerald do not exactly agree with Kyle’s plans. The problem is not Kenny as much as Kyle skipping college in order to stand by him. 

Needless to say, his mother throws a fit. Ike’s name is mentioned thrice in the same sentence, which is never a good sign when she’s comparing sons. Kyle holds his tongue and mentally agrees with her. He’s being stupid, _he knows_ , but when he turns to look at Kenny checking whether Ike’s old pajamas fit him, he tells himself he’s doing the right thing. 

Despite her initial protests, Sheila is a terribly good host to Kenny. First, she cleans Ike’s room so that bubbie’s friend won’t step on the architectonic experiments scattered all over the floor. The abandoned books and games are put in an imprecise order on the bookshelves. Ike is going to freak out, but Kyle doesn’t care less. Kenny deserves to sleep like a human being for once in his life. Ike’s order in the mess is but a secondary issue. 

Then there’s dinner. 

Gerald proposes take out; Sheila decides it would be fun to have dinner at Kyle’s favorite restaurant instead. Kenny immediately objects. Sheila insists, while Gerald rolls his eyes in the same way Kyle does and says Kenny shouldn’t worry about money so much. 

Kyle has no idea why eating out with his parents _and_ Kenny makes him so nervous, and a glance to his friend makes it obvious he’s not the only one. Yet, there is nothing formal in this dinner. Soon enough it becomes painfully clear that this has nothing to do with Kenny but everything to do with Kyle’s academic progress. His parents are visibly curious, and Sheila makes a good job at keeping the conversation going by bombarding Kyle with questions. At some point Gerald even manages to make Kenny laugh with a funny story from when Kyle was a toddler. Kyle’s cry of protest is completely ignored. 

Neither Sheila nor Gerald subject Kenny to a police grilling, but there is something about the way the two share looks that makes Kyle overly aware of his attitude with him. 

When they go back home, Kyle lets out a sigh of relief. Finally alone, Kyle gets in bed with his stomach full and his heart at peace. In the room next to his, Kenny is getting in Ike’s bed and can momentarily forget about his conversation with Kyle in the basketball court. 

At least, Kyle hopes he can. To hope is the only thing he can do right now. 

The redhead prays that this is going to be the last time he sees Kenny cry. It has been devastating, especially considering he was unable to do anything about it. 

So he was wrong. Craig wasn’t cheating on Kenny. 

Apparently, Craig and Kenny were together when the accident happened. 

Kyle can only think of only one possible scenario: Craig was driving. He got distracted, he crashed the car, and Kenny got out of it unscathed. Shocked to the bone sure, but alive. 

“Everyone dies, Kenny. It’s only common sense,” Kyle says to no one. 

Probably too out of it to think straight, Kenny walked away. The driver behind them was in a coma. What about the truck driver though? The guy was a witness, right? Why didn’t he stop Kenny? Unless he wasn’t in the truck. The gears in Kyle’s mind start turning. Oh, it would make sense. The truck driver abandoned his vehicle in the middle of the road to pee or something. Meanwhile, Craig got distracted and crashed the car. Behind them, a drunk driver made things worse by pushing Craig’s car against the truck and off the side. Craig died on impact; Kenny survived. Kenny got out, left the side door open and walked away before the truck driver came back. He’s in a state of shock, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. The truck driver sees what happened, panics, he knows he’s at fault. It takes him a while to make up his mind and call 911, but in the end he does. Meanwhile, Kenny is wandering in the countryside… 

Kyle stops thinking. It’s too painful to picture Kenny like that. There’s no point in digging through the past, and since there is no mystery to solve anymore, Kyle decides he’s not going to tell inspector Elliot about his theories. It’s a cold case. There is no murderer; just Kenny blaming himself for what has happened. 

Kenny, who thought his friends don’t care about him, keeps his presence at the scene a secret because he thinks justice won’t care about his version of the facts. The McCormicks’ view of the police and the public system is skewed at best. Of course Kenny would share his parent’s opinion on what people think of the poor and who’s to blame when accidents happen. 

That said, Kyle doesn’t blame Kenny for acting the way he did. This whole drama makes his blood boil. They deserved more than that. It’s tragic. 

It’s not fair. 

Kenny deserves the world. 

Kyle can’t fall asleep. 

It’s three a.m. when the door to his bedroom softly clicks open. Kyle props himself up on his elbows and he’s surprised to see Kenny taking careful steps towards his bed. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Kyle asks, a whisper that sounds too loud in his silent room. Kenny replies with a vague gesture of his hand, and Kyle scoots away to let Kenny slide under the covers with him. 

“No,” Kenny says as they rearrange themselves to lie face to face. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your father’s story.” The smirk on Kenny’s face makes Kyle shiver. “Is that why you are disgusted by pee so much? It was hilarious. Do you think your father can tell me this story again before breakfast?” 

“Shut up,” Kyle hisses in anger, but it’s half-hearted. Kenny’s body is warm against his and that’s the only thing that truly matters. 

Kenny closes his eyes, lets out a sigh of relief and makes himself comfortable next to Kyle. 

“Why are you still awake?” Kenny asks, holding Kyle’s gaze when the other snaps his head at him in surprise. 

“I was thinking about you.” 

Kyle bites his tongue when Kenny arches an eyebrow. He expects a pun, but nothing comes out Kenny’s mouth, just a soft ‘oh’ of amusement. Kyle needs to make the most of it before Kenny changes his mind and starts teasing him for real. 

“Why did you accept to stay the night?” 

“I-!” Kenny fixes his gaze on a spot on Kyle’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to face my father just yet. Sure, I wanted to catch up with Karen and Kevin, but--!” 

Kenny falls silent, and Kyle doesn’t pressure him to continue. 

“You should sleep,” Kyle tells him instead. “It’s late.” 

“The same goes for you,” Kenny retorts with a smirk, and Kyle can’t help smiling back. 

The warmth that comes from lying side by side like this is welcomed, soothing even. The line of Kenny’s nose, the curve of his bottom lip, his hairline, every detail on the other’s face is now familiar territory to Kyle. If he closes his eyes, he can picture it perfectly behind his eyelids. The anger, his faithful companion, is gone the moment Kenny smiles. The injustices in this world hold no meaning, as long as Kenny is there with him. 

“Thank you,” Kenny whispers. Kyle is too shocked to think clearly. He’s drowning in Kenny’s scent. 

“What for?” 

Kenny shrugs. 

Kyle unconsciously scoots closer to him. Eyes locked, it’s impossible to drift their gazes elsewhere. 

“Do you really mean it?” Kenny asks. Kyle has no idea what Kenny is talking about. His mind goes back to their conversation in the basketball court, but so many things have been said that it’s impossible to tell what exactly Kenny wants from him. 

So he goes with: “I do believe your mom is going to be okay.” 

Kenny snorts, taking Kyle completely by surprise. 

“Thinking about our mothers while we’re in bed together is too kinky even for me,” Kenny says. When Kyle playfully kicks him under the sheets, Kenny hides his face in the pillow to muffle his laughter. 

“Do you know your bed is fucking soft?” Kenny asks, once the cackling subsides. 

“Just sleep, Kenny.” 

“I don’t think I ever slept in your bed,” Kenny says. “It’s comfortable. We should do it more often.” 

“If you keep it up, you’ll never sleep in my bed, ever.” Noticing the way Kenny looks at him, Kyle rushes to add: “I mean, if you keep talking.” 

“Shut me up, then.” Kenny smirks. 

“What if I strangle you with the pillow?” 

“Oh, that’s-!” 

“Don’t even dare to say it!” 

Kenny’s bark of laughter is immediately hushed behind Kyle’s hand. 

“You are going to wake my parents up.” 

Kenny mumbles something behind Kyle’s fingers that the redhead doesn’t understand. Pulling his hand away, Kyle arches an eyebrow in question. 

“ _I said_ , your parents must be used to it by now. Since you are a screamer, I bet they can sleep through anything,” Kenny repeats, and Kyle groans at the other’s smug smirk. 

“What makes you say I’m a screamer?” Kyle asks, regretting it immediately when Kenny’s eyes twinkle with mischief. 

“Bebe, twelfth grade.” 

“She said _what_??” 

“And she was pretty proud of it too.” 

“That never happened.” 

“Why would she come up with it then?” 

“I—I don’t know!” 

“Don’t be shy, you can tell me you used to bang-!” 

“We never—Stop laughing, Kenny. I wouldn’t have even looked at her back then!” 

“How so?” 

“I—I--- goddamnit, Kenny, I just liked someone else…” 

“Seriously?? Who? She was a sexy bomb! How could you even--” 

Kyle glares at him, a long, meaningful look that speaks louder than words. He’s ready to accompany the stare down with a long, opinionated rant but the flash of understanding in Kenny’s eyes shuts him up before he even starts. 

“Really?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” 

For a moment the room is filled with silence and their soft breathing. Snuggling farther into the covers, Kyle keeps his eyes on Kenny. The challenge is clear on his face, but Kenny doesn’t look affected in the least. 

“I know I’m gorgeous, but…” Kenny tries to deflate the tension with humor, but Kyle is having none of it. 

“You know it is more than just your looks,” Kyle says. A smile unwillingly forms on Kenny’s lips at that, as if Kyle has just let him in on a secret he has been trying to pull out of Kyle’s mouth for quite some time. 

“You should be freaking out,” Kyle says when the silence becomes unbearable. “If I were you, I would be freaking out.” 

“That’s not true,” Kenny says softly. “You overreact because you think too much, but I doubt you’d have freaked out if our places had been swapped.” 

Heart beating fast, Kyle watches Kenny snuggle closer. 

“Honestly, if you asked me out in twelfth grade I would have probably said yes…” Kenny trails off. Relieved, Kyle slightly presses his forehead against Kenny’s. 

A series of conflicting emotions twists Kyle’s intestines, the infamous butterflies in the stomach. He pulls away from Kenny’s personal bubble. _Annoying_ butterflies, prodding him to give in before it’s too late. 

“What about now?” Kyle asks without thinking. The pained expression on Kenny’s face takes him completely by surprise. Shit. It’s too soon. Kenny has lost his boyfriend not long before, and here Kyle is proposing himself as a replacement. 

“Forget I asked,” Kyle rushes to say. Blue eyes bore into his. “I know it’s not the time.” 

“Kyle, I’m not the best choice-!” 

“No.” Kyle’s tone is final. Kenny tries a different tactic: 

“I promised Stan I wouldn’t lead you on.” 

“To be honest, I think I fell in love with you first, so, strictly speaking, I am the one leading you on.” 

Kenny is too stunned to do anything; Kyle is ready to slap himself across the face for talking without thinking –again. 

“I don’t know what I feel for you,” Kenny says. 

Hoping Kenny won’t realize the pang his words inflicted, Kyle keeps a poker face and says: “It’s fine, I don’t want to push you into anything. I’m always going to be your friend no matter what, you know that.” 

The blond hums and pulls the sheets up to cover part of his face. 

“I’m going to answer your question one day, Ky,” Kenny mumbles. “I promise.” 

The room is silent again. It’s too comfortable to move away from each other and soon enough they fall asleep. 

* * *

The digital clock Kevin has given her as a gift flashes 4:17 in bright red numbers. Carol does not see them, although her eyes are wide open, staring at the white ceiling. 

There’s a monster at the foot of her bed, hiding in the shadows. She can’t see that either. Her breathing is shallow. 

There’s Kevin holding her right hand, while Karen is sitting by her side, reading a story about vampires out loud. It’s a shitty story, but Carol loves her daughter’s voice so she doesn’t really mind. Kenny is there too, rolling his eyes whenever the handsome protagonist does something ridiculously romantic for the love of his life. Stuart is sitting on the chair by the bed, trying to light a cigarette despite his shaking fingers. 

The monster is holding Kenny by the shoulders. The shadows intertwine with the blond strands of his hair. 

It’s 4:19 when Carol lets out a sigh of relief. 

Kenny is alone, mumbling something behind his parka. 

Oh, her children are beautiful. 

Stuart smiles at her. 

It’s 4:21 and the room is engulfed in darkness. 

Carol McCormick’s heart stops beating. 


	15. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long time, no see. I am quite ashamed to say I was thinking to put this on hiatus, but you guys gave me strength to keep on writing. Thank you! <3

* * *

Life and death.

No life, two deaths. 

That is all Kenny can think of as they lower his mother’s casket into the ground. He wonders if that’s what his family felt every time he died: an emptiness right where the heart should have been. Karen holds onto him with a tight, firm grip. Kevin massages the knuckles of his left hand with his thumb. Stuart McCormick sits by the tombstone in reverent silence. He is not compelled to move and no one dares to take him away. 

His mother didn’t know what it’s like to die and she sure won’t come back to pass on her impressions to him. Kenny has gone to Hell one time too many and hopes Carol McCormick is laughing and sharing whiskey with the angels. 

When the funeral service is over, Stan and Kyle offer him words of condolences. Kenny swears he sees Cartman lurking somewhere but he quickly forgets about him when Kyle pulls him in a tight hug. Kenny feels his cheek press against his own; he breaths in his scent and sighs in relief. 

Kenny loves him. 

The feelings soothe his soul for a brief second. Then Kyle pulls away and it’s cold again. 

There is a gathering after the funeral but Kevin, Karen and Kenny leave the adults to it. They walk back home to catch up. They want to talk about what they have been up to so far and their dreams for the future. Kevin and Karen are doing great in Harrisburg. Would Kenny be interested to move in with them?

Kenny’s poker face is remarkable. “Well, there’s dad…” he begins but no other words follow this sentence. A sad expression briefly flashes across Kevin’s face before he pats him on the knee, reassuringly. 

“Perhaps it was not the best idea to bring this up right now.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Kenny lies down on the couch and puts his head on Karen’s lap. “I have a job, you know.” 

“I know that’s not what’s stopping you,” Kevin says. Kenny arches his eyebrows and looks up at Karen, who is playing with strands of his blond hair. “There’s that Broflovski guy,” Kevin continues, waving his hand in the air, and Kenny snorts. 

“There’s nothing between us.” 

“I didn’t say that.” Kevin laughs. Kenny locks eyes with Karen, hoping for her support, but finds none. 

“He didn’t say that.” She teases him. Her scrunched up nose is adorable and Kenny boops it to make her laugh. It’s a sound that helps them forget what they have been witnesses to. They can pretend to be happy for a couple of hours, before they have to part ways again, before Kevin and Karen leave him alone again. 

That oppressing emptiness, right where his heart should have been, takes a back seat and doesn’t torment him when Kevin and Karen are near. 

Stuart doesn’t come home until much later. To everyone’s surprise, Kenny runs to him and hugs him, letting out a sigh of relief when his dad wraps his arms around him even tighter. 

In the afternoon, Kyle Broflovski rings at the McCormicks’ door. It’s Kevin who answers, still dressed in black, dirt under his fingernails, tie askew. Kyle fidgets, he’s not sure why he is there, but Kevin doesn’t need him to say anything to justify his visit. He looks behind his back and shouts, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear: 

“Kenny, your boyfriend is here!” 

“I am not-!” Kyle rushes to defend himself but he’s cut off by Kenny appearing at the door. His lips curve into a soft smile when he sees him and Kenny reciprocates with one of his own. 

“Thank you for coming by,” Kenny says, perhaps a little too formally, while he closes the door behind him. Karen is trying to peek outside from the window, whilst Kevin chuckles. Kenny grabs Kyle’s arm and pushes him away from the driveway. 

Neither of them talk as they walk down the dirty streets of SoDoSoPa towards the train rails. When they are almost in front of the Broflovskis’ household, Kenny decides to break the comfortable silence. 

“I actually wanted to have a word with you.” 

“What about?” Kyle asks, furrowing his eyebrows. Kenny takes his time before answering. 

There are a lot of things Kenny wants to say and do. First of all, he wants to tell him why he knows Carol’s death is his fault. He wants to stress the fact that she would have been alive, had Kenny stayed dead for once. He wants to ask Craig for forgiveness, because he would have been alive too, if Kenny hadn’t lead him on and accepted to be his boyfriend. If Kenny would have forgotten how to love, no one would have been hurt. He wants to hear Kyle’s opinion on his immortality. He wants to hear him call him a weirdo, maybe laugh right at his face and say: “You know that I don’t really believe you’re immortal, right?” but Kenny knows Kyle would never say that. 

_Well, Kyle, you are right, I am not._ Not anymore. 

Because Carol McCormick is dead, which means Kenny has no way to come back to life. He thought about it and the answer slapped him across the face -hard. If what she told him in the hospital is true, Kenny is free now. He _should_ be free now. She kept giving birth to him, so what happens now that she’s dead? How is Kenny supposed to be born again? Through his ashes? He is no motherfucking phoenix. His curse is gone. There. He has prayed for this moment forever and here was the result. No life, two deaths. The thing novelists say about changing, how you feel it in your bones, is not true. Lies. Kenny can’t feel shit. He feels normal. The emptiness is still there, the loneliness is still there, he can’t talk to anyone about his adventures in the afterlife because people will think he’s a nutcase. So what changed? 

“Nothing,” Kenny says. “Nothing important anyway.” 

Kyle regards him with a long disbelieving look, and Kenny smiles brightly at him. 

“I decided to go home as soon as possible,” Kenny says. There is a lump in his throat that makes it difficult to speak but Kenny manages to keep his voice steady. “I think you should go back to college, you missed a lot of classes. I’ll take it from here. My brother and sister are here, and my dad, and Stan. I’m not alone. Then I’ll go back to work, before Benjamin decides to fire me for real. Kyle, I’m fine. Don’t look at me like that.” 

“I’m not looking at you in any way,” Kyle says, jaw clenched in defiance. Kenny pats him on the back and winks. 

“Sure you are not, buddy,” Kenny says. 

“Kenny, your mother just-!” He sighs in defeat. “I can miss a couple of classes more. I’m sure your dad is going to be a pain in the ass right now and judging by the way he cried on your mother’s tombstone…” 

“Kevin and Karen are going to be here for a while,” Kenny lies. “I need them right now as much as they need me. We are going to handle this together.” 

Eyes on the ground, Kyle falls into pondering over his options. Kenny stares at him, imprints Kyle’s features into his memory and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“If that’s what you want,” Kyle says, although it’s clear he is not happy in the least. Kenny can see that he wants to fight for his right to stay, but now is not the time. Kenny has just buried his mother after all, and Kyle doesn’t want to upset him any further. Kenny had hoped he would react exactly like that. 

“Yes, school should be your first priority, dude,” Kenny says. “I promise we will meet again, eventually.” 

At those words, Kyle looks at him in surprise and Kenny holds his stare. He’s afraid Kyle might read between the lies but there’s only a flicker of betrayal in Kyle’s green irises. Kenny knows why: he has discarded his help too many times already, and now that they were going to get somewhere… 

“Just call me if you need me,” Kyle says. Kenny loves the stubborn set of his jaw and the determination in his words. When Kyle’s fingers intertwine with his, Kenny doesn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer. 

“Law school sucks,” Kenny says, “so good luck with that.” 

A small laugh escapes Kyle’s lips. Kenny presents him with the brightest smile he can muster and squeezes his finger in gratitude. 

“Come over sometimes,” Kenny says. “When you got time. Sundays are perfect.” 

Kyle lets his gaze wander over Kenny’s face. “Kenny, I’m always going to be by your side.” 

Kenny doesn’t reply to that, so he does the only reasonable thing he can think of. He steps closer and let himself get lost in Kyle’s embrace. 

***

Three days later, Kyle takes his car and drives back to college. Kenny waves goodbye to Karen and Kevin not long after. His father is still in denial about his wife’s death and clings to his bottle like a sailor to his life vest. To avoid seeing him in that pitiful state, Kenny starts visiting his mother’s tombstone and stands by Craig’s for hours.

Sometimes Stan goes to the cemetery with him. That day too, he’s not alone.

“You sure you want to go back home tomorrow?” Stan asks, shoving his hands in his pocket. “There’s plenty of room in my apartment. You can stay the night, or just come over to play videogames and stuff.” 

“Did Kyle tell you to pamper me?” Kenny asks, arching an eyebrow in suspicion, but Stan shakes his head no. 

“You know he would much prefer to be the one controlling your every move,” Stan says. “I just thought you would like to do something for a change, instead of watching your father gulping down one bottle after the other.” 

“I think he’s coming to terms with it,” Kenny says, avoiding Stan’s knowing stare. “Anyway, it’s not like I want to go back home, but I don’t want to get fired.” 

“That’s fair, dude.” Stan shrugs. “Wanna do something together before you get back to your boring routine?” 

“Are you suggesting something?” Kenny asks, waggling his eyebrows. 

“I’m not taking you to a strip club,” Stan replies. 

“Aw, that sucks.” 

They walk around the tombstones towards the exit. Since Stan is with him, Kenny does not linger around Craig’s grave more than a couple of minutes. It’s not like Stan has a problem with it, but Kenny can’t stand the pitying looks Stan throws his way when he does. They are deciding where they should go eat, when a man suddenly blocks their path. 

“Hey, Kenny!” Cartman exclaims catching Kenny completely off guard. His plump friend pats him on the back and laughs. “I tried to talk to you after the funeral, but you just had to be a little bitch and hide in your rat hole. Condolences, by the way.” 

“Hey, Cartman,” Stan greets him and keeps walking. Kenny follows him and he is not surprised when Cartman rushes to catch up with them. 

“Hi, Stan,” Cartman quickly says and then reverts his attention to Kenny. “So what have you been up to? I’m sure Stan forgot to mention how I’m about to become a millionaire hauling junk.” 

“Cartman, you are working in a pumping station,” Stan says pinching his nose. 

“ _For now_!” Cartman exclaims, affronted, and looks at Kenny again. “He’s just jealous because I’m gonna be filthy rich and he’s gonna stay a car mechanic forever.” 

“Strong mechanical skills are a turn on for a lot of women. Can’t blame him,” Kenny says with a shrug. Cartman bursts out laughing. 

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” Cartman says. “How long are you going to stay in South Park?” 

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Kenny answers him and ignores the frown on Stan’s lips. 

“Seriously?” Disappointment seeps into Cartman’s voice and Kenny snaps his head towards him in wonder. “You could have told me sooner, so we could have hanged out a little more or something. Hey, Stan! Where’s your boyfriend? Is he gone already?” 

“Kyle left two days ago,” Stan says, unfazed by Cartman’s comment. 

“What a nerd,” Cartman says and wraps an arm around Kenny’s shoulder. “Well, good riddance. I guess it’s gonna be just the three of us, huh? Let’s do something fun, come on. It’s been a long time.” 

“I’m not going to collect junk for you,” Stan says. “Ask Butters.” 

“What a slacker,” Cartman mutters. 

Kenny looks at Cartman and feels a smile lift the corners of his mouth. “We’re gonna grab something to eat,” Kenny says. 

“Should we go to our usual place?” Stan asks turning to look at Cartman in question. 

“Last time they forgot to put ketchup in my hamburger,” Cartman says with a frown. “If they don’t put ketchup this time, I swear to God-!” 

Kenny follows the two to what it used to be his favorite fast food place. Cartman’s voice takes him back in time and Kenny misses Kyle’s replies to Cartman’s bullshit. In all honestly, he misses Kyle so much his heart is going to stop, but he’s actually glad he’s not with him. 

His sadness is already bad enough as it is. If Kyle had been there, Kenny would have never found the will to leave. And Kenny has been wanting to leave since forever. 

Time with Stan and Cartman goes by fast and at the end of the day, the thought he wouldn’t mind do it all over again takes him by surprise. He returns home wishing he had accepted Stan’s proposal to stay the night with him but as soon as he catches his dad unconscious on the couch his resolve to keep going strengthens. 

The next morning, Stan and Cartman see him off. Kenny meets them in front of his house. He’s taking his dad car; Stuart doesn’t even notice. Stan hugs him briefly and Cartman gives him a playful punch on the shoulder. 

“You are going to stay poor forever if you keep this up,” Cartman says. “Think about my future business. You are welcomed to join anytime.” 

“Thanks, Cartman, but getting high huffing gasoline is not that great,” Kenny says getting in the car. 

“I hope you are kidding, dude,” Stan says. “You could die.” 

“Kenny’s not afraid of that,” Cartman says and his offhanded comment sends Kenny reeling backwards. Seeing the effect his words caused, Cartman smirks but Kenny is too shocked to come up with a witty retort. 

“Thank you for everything,” he says instead and starts the engine. Cartman’s lips quiver into a frown and Kenny waves at his friend. 

“Wait.” Cartman takes a step to his window but thinks better of it and moves to stand by Stan’s side. “See ya, loser.” 

“Bye guys, it’s been fun,” he says and drives away. He doesn’t check in the rearview mirror and keeps his eyes on the road. 

It’s time to go. 

The tires roll lazily under him. He turns the radio on and sings to Craig’s favorite song. The landscape slowly passes by. A green mass of trees stretches its branches towards him. The cold draft is coming in and gently caresses his face. The sun is setting on the horizon, casting orange and violet shadows on the clouds above him. Kenny hangs his left hand out of the window and plays with the airflow. 

This time is for real. 

He steers the wheel abruptly and hits the gas, aiming at one of the trees. The engine roars, the revs climb. The tree comes closer at an alarming speed. 

Finally justice has come full circle. 

Kenny dies. 

* * *

It’s dark but not cold. Actually, it’s kind of cozy. Calm. 

Kenny feels firm ground under his feet but he doesn’t see it. It’s like he’s suspended in a dark, black matter, but he can move and breath as if he were on Earth. He stands up and makes a few steps just to make sure he’s not really dreaming this. 

He’s dead, that much is certain. 

He never visited Limbo before and that is new even for him. There are no angels, Satan is not waiting for him, there is nothing but absolute darkness. Yet this is not scary at all. 

He’s alone. Sensory deprivation should have made him uncomfortable but it’s actually pushing him to be perceptive of his surroundings. He takes a big breath and for a single moment he feels something has changed. The air turns suddenly colder. 

There is someone with him, something. 

Kenny looks up and finally notices the monster peeking down at him. His form is not definite, as if Kenny is trying to discern him through rough old glass. His aura is familiar. Kenny knows him somehow, but it’s the first time they actually meet. 

“He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.” 

At the sound of that voice, his eyes start to sting. He hears footsteps approaching him and Kenny does not dare to glance behind his back, he does not want to look and realize that _he_ is just a figment of his imagination. 

His heart is beating so fast Kenny thinks it’s going to burst out of his chest. 

“It’s done,” Craig says with a sigh. He is standing by his side now and Kenny sees a blue sleeve with the corner of his eyes. “I’m gonna deal with this guy from now on. What a nuisance.” 

“What the fuck did you do?” 

Kenny’s voice echoes in nothing. He hears Craig let out a snort right next to his ear and finally, _finally_ , Kenny turns to look at him. Lazily, Craig tilts his head and cups his face, wiping away a tear from Kenny’s cheek with his thumb.

“Don’t be a crybaby now, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“So I am finally dead?” Kenny asks leaning against his touch. Craig’s hand is warm. He feels Craig’s breath on his face. Is he real? Is he dreaming? Is he really dead? 

Craig snorts again. 

“’Course not,” Craig says and risks a glance at the monster above them. “He’s keeping his end of the bargain.” 

Kenny doesn’t dare to look away. If he does, Craig is going to fade into nothing and he doesn’t want that. He wants to keep this memory of him forever. Gorgeous, like the day they met for the first time after so many years. Wonderful, like that evening on the bridge... 

His happiness last but a moment, before dread falls on him like a bucket of icy cold water. 

“What bargain?” Kenny asks, searching into Craig’s blue eyes. Craig shrugs. 

“To let me see you one last time before shit happens,” Craig says. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Kenny tries again and grabs Craig by the collar of his shirt. The smile that he receives in answer takes his breath away. He shoots a wary glance at the monster above them and understanding makes his blood run cold. 

“I wanted to know what you were,” Craig says. “I wanted to find a way to free you from this motherfucker. I had no other option.” 

“And you took my place?” Kenny asks, knuckles white. 

“I don’t think I’ll die as much as you used to,” Craig says, smirking. “I know how to avoid trouble.” 

“You are such an idiot!” Kenny exclaims. “This is a _curse_ , Craig! Immortality is no fucking joke! No one will remember you dying and you are going to be alone forever. Fuck this shit. You know exactly what it feels like. You died! You left your family and your career for me, and I don’t deserve this, you fucking bastard. I killed you. And now I killed myself too! Why did you go and sacrifice yourself?! No one is going to come out of this alive!” 

“You are not dead,” Craig says, rolling his eyes skywards. “I made sure of that.” Kenny’s heart starts galloping. “There are people out there who love you and are trying to save your life right now.” 

“What?” Kenny furrows his eyebrows and immediately lowers his eyes to the ground. 

“ _Kyle_ , Kenny? Seriously?” Craig asks, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. 

“I-!” 

“He makes you happy and that’s okay,” Craig says. “He’s bawling his eyes out thinking you’re dead. You should see him. Stan too looks really pitiful, the bastard. And there’s Cartman too.” 

Kenny looks up and Craig’s smiling face breaks him down. Heart beating fast, he leans in and presses his lips against the other’s mouth. Their kiss is sweet like he remembers it to be and he buries his fingers in Craig’s hair to pull him closer, as if to get back what he once lost. 

“I don’t want to live,” Kenny says pulling slightly away. “I destroy everything I touch.” 

“Jesus Christ, Kenny,” Craig says, pressing his forehead against his. “You know you don’t.” 

“I want to stay here, with you.” 

“Kenny, we both know you don’t mean it,” Craig says and kisses him one last time. “It’s time you go, dude. Kyle’s an asshole but he loves you and you love him back, don’t let your chance go by. Tell Stan thanks for looking after my sister, and punch Cartman for me, it would make me so happy.” 

Kenny chuckles. “Anything else?” 

“Introduce me to Red Racer when the time comes,” Craig says. “That show was rad as fuck.” 

“What?” Kenny asks, tilting his head in confusion. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” 

“I loved you, hon,” Craig says. “Take care.” 

“What the fuck, Craig?” Kenny holds on Craig’s shirt but it slips from his grasp. Craig raises his middle finger and, despite his shock, Kenny bursts out laughing. Or maybe he’s crying. He can’t tell the difference. 

“I loved you too,” he says. His voice is nothing but a whisper. Craig is nothing but a memory. The black walls around him crack. Gold splotches of sunlight slip over him. He swears he hears someone calling his name. 

He is breathing. 


	16. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say a BIG THANK YOU to panacea for being an absolute sweetheart and for betaing this chapter. She is such a good friend, a very talented author, and if you haven't read her fics yet (although I doubt you didn't) I suggest you do it right now! She's awesome.

* * *

It's not exactly a common occurrence for someone to be calling him at this hour, so the sound of his ringtone instantly puts him on edge. A feeling that's only amplified when he finally recognizes the tone he set just for him. In that moment, Kyle wants to put his phone on silent and keep on sleeping. Nevertheless, for some reason he can’t quite grasp, he opts to answer. 

“What’s up, fatass?” He lifts his free hand over his eyes and massages them softly, biting down a yawn as he waits for Cartman to explain himself. All he receives in answer is the other’s heavy breathing, as if his childhood frenemy had been climbing up the stairs to get to the top of a really tall skyscraper. By the time Cartman decides to stop being a creep, Kyle is awake and very much irritated. His finger hovers over the end-call button, and if it weren’t for Cartman whispering Kenny’s name in between labored-gasps, Kyle would have switched his phone off already. 

“What did you say?” His words echo in the dark room. He’s suddenly out of breath. It’s his mind tricking him, making him think he’s actually in a cave, with no way out. His voice sounds distant even to him. On the other side, Cartman groans but proceeds to repeat his message word by word, to which Kyle aptly responds, “I hope you’re joking, you donkey fucker-!”

“You think I’d joke over something so serious, Kahl?” Cartman interrupts him. Kyle’s heart is running a mile per second. “Grow up and get your dirty Jewish ass over here!” 

Kyle is too stunned to reply at the slur. “Is he okay?” The question is nothing but a whisper, and Kyle hopes Cartman won’t detect how vulnerable he suddenly feels. 

“What do you think?” Cartman clicks his tongue. “Thought Stan was going to pass out when he saw him.” Phone still balanced between his shoulder and jaw, Kyle springs out of bed and reaches out for his pants. Unaware of Kyle’s fretting, Cartman continues: “He can’t die and yet-!”

At the words, Kyle freezes to the spot. “Did he tell you that?” 

“I figured that part out way before you, smartass,” Cartman says and the smugness in his voice sends all Kyle’s alarms bells ringing. “For a self-proclaimed genius, you sure are fucking dense.”

Kyle wants to tell him that Ike is the genius of the family, not him, but he’s not in the mood for petty bickering. Changing the subject is the last thing they both should do right now. Kenny is their priority. 

“It’s physically impossible.”

“Whatever.”

Kyle shoves a leg down his pants and almost loses his balance. If he closes his eyes he can picture Kenny lying in a hospital bed, breathing softly as his life slowly leaves his body. His cryptic words before they parted suddenly make a lot of fucking sense. Kyle should have read between the lies. He should have stayed with him. 

_“Come over sometimes. When you got time. Sundays are perfect.”_ Was Kenny telling him to visit his grave every Sunday? What an idiot. _“I promise we will meet again, eventually.”_ The fucker.

“So? What are you gonna do?” 

Kyle is painfully aware he’s in denial. “Kenny would never kill himself.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t tried before?” And with that said, Cartman abruptly hangs up. 

With his phone still pressed against his ear, Kyle searches around the room for a shirt. The empty silence that fills the room from the now dead line is deafening, it pierces his eardrums and prods him to get ready faster. Cartman’s words chilled him and he’s in dire need of a sweater. Not even ten minutes later, he’s out the door and taking the car to South Park. 

* * *

The sound of _his_ voice is unexpected but far from unwelcome. The rough timbre, harsh, full of determination and sheer stubbornness, is music to his ears. Kenny thinks he’s dreaming at first. He’s listening to him underwater and the closer he swims to the surface, the clearer his voice becomes. It’s soothing. Suddenly he’s back to Earth, back to him. There is the faint sensation of fingers pressing against his pulse, although there’s a machine breathing right next to his ear that’s beating to the rhythm of his heart. Someone is calling his name. No, they’re not talking to him. It’s just the doctor telling his visitor: Kenny McCormick’s condition is stable. 

“Then why isn’t he waking up?”

Kenny doesn’t want to open his eyes. He’s afraid of the pitying looks Kyle is going to throw his way if they somehow realize he’s awake… even though, at this point, he doubts Kyle would feel anything for him that wasn’t anger. His death had been an act of pure impulse. A stupid and selfish thing to do, even if dying had never exactly had the same meaning to him as it did to other people. But that would need to change now, forever. Craig had told him as much, the truth he had admitted to him never far from Kenny's mind. His life and his future was Craig's gift to him, and he wasn't about to throw that away. 

While his mind was pulled into overdrive, the doctor was refusing to answer Kyle’s question. Kenny hears a sigh, quickly followed by the rustle of scrubs. He listens to the squeaking of the doctor’s shoes against the polished tile until the sound disappears in the distance. Then, when the room is engulfed in an uncomfortable silence, Kenny forces one eye open. At the foot of his hospital bed, Cartman and Kyle are standing side by side with their backs to him. Stan is facing his bed, hands shoved in his bomber-jacket pockets. He’s so focused on Cartman and Kyle that he doesn’t even notice Kenny watching him closely. 

“Let’s go grab something to eat and come back in the afternoon,” Stan says, breaking the silence. “I doubt anything is going to change in two hours.” 

“Good idea,” Cartman says, already on his way to the door. “What are you waiting for? It’s not like our presence is going to magically bring Kenny to life, and, seriously, if I go without food for another ten minutes, I-!” 

“How can you think about food in a time like this, you fucker?” Kyle snaps. Despite his angered retort, he follows Cartman outside without looking back, as if he too can’t wait to get out of there. Suddenly alone with Kenny, Stan lets out a frustrated sigh. Kenny makes sure to close his eyes before Stan realizes he’s awake. He waits a couple of seconds until the only sound he hears is the heart monitor. At that point, Kenny decides it’s time to get out of bed. 

He hates the smell of sanitizer. Carol McCormick died in this same hospital mere days earlier and, to be completely honest, Kenny had no intention to re-experience an atmosphere filled with gibberish muttered by doctors and the sound of gurneys rolling by in the corridors. He’d been prepared to be buried six feet under at this point, and had wanted to stay there for a change. But Craig and Kyle wouldn’t hear of it. One way or another, they managed to shove his will to live back into his open arms. 

And maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe there were things Kenny was... meant to do. 

With that thought in mind, Kenny makes his way to the bathroom and spends a good ten minutes staring at himself in the mirror. There are bruises all over his arms and legs; it’s a miracle he hadn’t broken anything but his nose. The haunted expression on his face startles him, so he tries to smile to make himself feel better. His facial muscles stretch upwards and his bottom lip gapes open. Fuck this shit, he’s aching all over. He doesn’t remember surviving ever being this painful. 

Then again, he hadn’t survived a lot before this, did he? 

He lets out a bark of laughter that echoes against the bathroom’s walls and suddenly, the door is pulled abruptly open. Hissing in pain as he snaps his neck, he faces the intruder and gasps when Kyle wraps his arms around him. 

“Why must you be such a fucking piece of shit?” Kyle whispers in his ear. Out of instinct, Kenny pushes him away and a guilty look flashes across Kyle’s face. “Shit, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” 

“I have stiches?” Kenny asks instead, marveling at the marking along his forearm. “You think it will leave a scar, Ky?” 

The light behind Kyle’s eyes goes from panicked to serious in a second. Jaw clenched, he gives Kenny a look over and takes a step back. Kenny immediately averts his gaze elsewhere. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Kyle is obviously trying to suppress his anger and Kenny wonders whether he should apologize or look at Kyle with just as much determination. The moment Kyle tentatively reaches for his hand, Kenny opts to do neither. What he does instead is intertwine their fingers together and pull them both out of the little cubicle the hospital decided to call a bathroom. 

“You didn’t call Karen and Kevin, did you?” Kenny asks and his heart skips a beat when Kyle rolls his eyes to the ceiling. 

“You’ve been out cold for a week,” Kyle says. “A week! Of course your family knows.” 

“Shit.” Kenny moves back to his bed, dragging Kyle with him and sits down. The mattress curves under his weight and creaks when Kyle follows his example. 

“Tell me it was an accident.” At Kyle’s words, Kenny pulls his hand away from the other’s tight grasp. “Why, Kenny?” The anger is back in his voice. “Did all my promises mean nothing to you?” 

“It’s not that.” 

“Then what?” Kyle asks. When Kenny doesn’t answer immediately, Kyle sighs and makes to stand up. “I should call a nurse or something.” 

“No, wait.” 

Kyle sits back down and looks up and around the empty room, apparently trying to calm his nerves. Kenny is tempted to ask him where Cartman and Stan are but refrains from it. It’s actually weird to know that his friends, all of them, were in the same building with him, just two floors beneath them. 

“Has...anyone else come to see me?” Kenny asks, suddenly curious. Kyle arches an eyebrow in surprise but his voice is soft when he answers. 

“Your father, Karen and Kevin were here before we came… Stan told me Tricia came to visit yesterday with her parents. Oh, Clyde and Jimmy came too. Token called Stan three days ago to ask if you were out of your coma yet. He’s too busy with his business to come all the way here from Seattle… and… wait, why do you ask?” 

“Why is Cartman here?” Kenny inquires instead. His throat is dry and it’s a miracle he can utter a single word. 

“Cartman's probably just here to prove a point or something, hell if I know. Unless..." He pauses and seems to remember something. "He did mention knowing something was up after he saw you that day. I'm not sure how long that was after I left, but I guess that doesn't really matter." He sighs. "What I wanted to say was that Cartman was the one who called and told me that you...you know." He trails off and Kenny instantly feels guilty. He deserved to know the truth.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Kenny says softly. “I’ve told you some of it that day, on the basketball court, but now I want you to know the whole story so that maybe you’ll understand why I...” he bites his bottom lip, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing it up, and swears when a disagreeable metallic taste fills his mouth. 

Kyle suddenly lifts a hand a catches a drop of blood on his thumb. He squints his eyes at it and then reaches out for a tissue from the paper box on Kenny’s bedside table. 

“They should have put stitches on that cut too,” Kyle says, softly wiping clean the trail of blood on Kenny’s chin. Kenny’s lips slightly part; he’s too shocked to do anything to stop him and he stares at the redhead as if he’s seeing him for the first time. In a way, he does. 

Kyle is entirely concentrated on the task at hand. A line forms between his eyebrows, his nostrils flare slightly. Kenny gazes at him and his shoulders curve forward, trying to fight the force that wants to pull him into Kyle’s embrace. 

“So? Are you going to tell me or what?” 

“Fuck.” Kenny tears away the tissue from Kyle’s hand and presses it against his mouth, covering not only the cut on his lip but half of his face too. He fidgets in his seat and the moment their arms accidentally brush against each other, Kenny’s ears turn almost the same shade as Kyle’s hair. 

“Did I hurt you?” Kyle asked, suddenly panicking again. 

“What?! No!” Kenny exclaims, horrified. “Just- fuck!” 

Kyle looks as confused as he must be feeling. Kenny leans in. There is nothing more attractive than Kyle’s lips in that moment and he unconsciously rests his hand on the redhead’s thigh. “Can I just-?” He’s not even exactly sure what he wants to say or do. “Fuck.” Coherence has long abandoned him. 

"Kenny why is your..." Kyle stares down at Kenny’s hand. "Wait, goddammit, really?! You just-! _We_ just-!” 

Understanding hit Kenny right in the gut and he shoots up from his place on the bed, trying to put as much distance as possible between the two. 

“No! I don’t want that. I mean, I do… but…” 

“Are you for real?” Kyle asks him, letting out a disbelieving sigh. “I thought you were being serious here. I really believed you were going to let me in on some big secret, but obviously you are too horny to-!” 

“Who’s horny?” 

Stan’s voice cuts the awkward conversation in half. Beside him, Cartman walks in carrying a bag from KFC and almost bumps into Stan, who’s standing uneasily by the door. 

“Hungry!” Kenny shouts. “I’m hungry! Hey, Stan!” He flashes him a smile before he remembers he’s still covering his mouth with a bloodied tissue. 

“Kenny, you’re awake,” Cartman says, not looking surprised at all, and waddles into the room. “So did you get caught up on your beauty sleep?” He asks, laughing, and takes out a box of chicken nuggets. Kenny’s eyes are immediately drawn to them and his stomach starts growling when the smell of food reaches his nostrils. 

“You brought me food?” Kenny asks, not quite believing Cartman could willingly do something for him. Indeed Cartman seems insulted at the mere idea and holds the box against his chest possessively. 

“Dude, you just woke up,” Cartman says. “I had no idea you would be up and about. These are mine, go buy your own.” 

Kenny’s stomachs groans. 

“You’re fat enough already, you asshole!” Kyle snaps. “Just give him the chicken nuggets!” 

“No!” 

“Dude, you already ate half the box,” Stan moans. 

“Could you be any less greedy, shithead?!” Kyle shouts. Cartman groans and after shooting Kyle the most murderous look he could muster, he shoves the box in Kenny’s arms. 

Kenny opens the box and marvels at its contents. But most of all, he marvels at the way they got back to their old antics in only a few seconds. Stan pulls him down to sit between him and Kyle and Cartman takes the plastic chair by the bed. As Kenny fills his mouth with the taste of chicken -which he doesn’t really need, since his arm is still connected to a feeding tube- he wonders how he used to think no one wanted him. 

Here they were, his three childhood friends, bickering with each other as if time never passed as fast as it did. In two hours, Kevin, Karen and even his dad would come over to visit him. And in a day, Wendy and Bebe would also drop by after driving all the way from Washington DC. Then Craig’s family, the Broflovskis’ and the Marshes’. 

Kenny honestly doesn't even know how many people will end up visiting him. In that moment, he can’t help but wonder just how many times these very same people have mourned him. Soon forgetting about him because of his curse, but now...that’s no longer an issue and so their memory will remain intact. Their concern is real and now he knows...it always has been. 

Trying hard to hide his emotion from Cartman, Kenny swiftly wipes away a tear. Only Kyle notices. Their gazes lock and Kyle’s flashes him a soft, reassuring smile. 

For the first time in his life, Kenny feels alive. 

* * *

He spends his stay at the hospital seeing one psychologist after another, all who desperately try to make him open up about his mental stability. Nevertheless, there is only one person Kenny wants to talk to and, after all those days spent in the solitude of each other’s company, he finds the idea of having to fit Kyle’s visit between a doctor’s appointment and a therapy session absolutely ridiculous. 

There’s never enough time to talk. Doctors are more interested in his relationship with his mother and how her death might have affected him rather than Kenny’s needs. In that moment, he reconsiders his career choices and realizes he would have been a much better therapist than all of the doctors of a psychiatric ward put together. As soon as he gets his hand on a computer, Kenny gets through his afternoons researching. His newly made e-mail is soon spammed by college brochures advertising why’d they’d be the best choice for any upcoming psychology major. 

Cartman finds the whole ordeal amusing, Stan doesn’t give a damn, while Kyle surprises everyone by being totally supportive. 

“You should try it out, you know? I’m sure you’re doing great at washing plates and serving tables, but I know you have so much more potential.” 

“What potential, Kahl? Kenny is poor as fuck.” 

“I’m just looking at options for fun,” Kenny mumbles, sinking into the bed to make himself look smaller. 

“You could be a school counselor,” Stan pipes in and shrugs when all eyes are on him. “What?” he asks, immediately on the defensive. “Remember Mr. Mackey? His job was a joke.” 

“I think he needed therapy himself,” Cartman says munching on his chips. 

“Guys.” Kenny groans and rolls his eyes. “I’m just bored out of my mind. I’m not fucking going to college.” 

“Why not?” Kyle says. “It’s not like you can’t if you want to.” 

Kyle’s right. Kenny _could_ if he wanted to. He had earned enough to afford at least a couple of years in college. 

He entertains the idea in his mind and snickers when he pictures himself giving advice to a bunch of problematic kids. 

But hey, who better to help problematic kids than someone who had a problematic childhood himself? 

*** 

Two weeks of boredom later, Kenny finally finds himself out of his hospital cage. The first thing he does instead of going straight home to his father, is make a stop at Stark’s Pond. He’s not alone though, Kyle is with him. 

“Remember when I said I wanted to talk after I woke up?” Kenny asks, half-jokingly, half serious. 

“When you said you wanted to fuck?” 

“I never said such thing,” Kenny says with a grin. “But since you’re bringing it up…” 

“No, I’m not falling for that.” Despite the angry snap, Kyle’s amusement brightens up his face. “Although, I’d be lying if I told you I am not dying of curiosity. What the hell did you want to tell me that day that would justify doing something as stupid as driving straight into a tree?” 

Kenny stops mid-track and lets his eyes wander over the landscape around them. He finally spots the only bench facing the lake and makes a beeline to it. As always, Kyle follows. 

“Just don’t hate me afterwards.” 

“Spit it out.” 

Surprisingly, Kenny doesn’t feel like going back on his word. He promised Kyle he would tell him and so now he does, starting right from the beginning. He tells him about his curse, about the cult of Cthulhu, about his mother’s pregnancies, about his loneliness, about those days as a kid when he came back from the afterlife and everyone went ‘Oh, hi, Kenny, where have you been?’. He tells him that he tried to kill himself many times before, and about how he wanted to get out of South Park. Explains how he wanted to follow his siblings but couldn’t because he always came back to life in their little mountain town, and about his life in the city. About Craig finding a part-time job in the coffee place Kenny had been working, and then describes the day that Craig died. He leaves out nothing, not the nightmares that followed or the almost unbelievable way that his story ends. Telling Kyle how he saw Craig one last time. His curse now lifted, and how he’s finally free but has no idea where Craig’s soul went. 

“Fuck,” is all Kyle has to say to that. 

Kenny can’t blame him. “It’s a lot to digest.” 

“It’s not that,” Kyle says, affronted at the mere suggestion that he, Kyle Broflovski, can’t handle such a thing. “I’m pissed off.” 

“At me?” 

“Not at you, dumbass.” Kyle rolls his eyes. “I’m angry at the fact that the clues were there but I just couldn’t puzzle it together.” 

“You couldn’t remember.” 

“I wish I did.” 

“And what if you could?” Kenny asks, suddenly aware of the truth behind his own words. “It would have just been painful for you. Wondering day after day if I was in Heaven or in Hell and mourning my loss until you didn’t care anymore. Would you really have wanted that? You would have probably taken my life for granted eventually and I think that I really needed someone to remind me that I’m worth something.” 

Kyle doesn’t reply to that and stands up from the bench instead. Unconsciously, Kenny follows his example and comes to stand by his side. 

“Okay, now that we established you are a mere mortal, can you stop being an asshole. Living like a hermit in a big ugly city is really not your style.” 

A bubble of laughter escapes Kenny’s lips. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Move in with me,” Kyle says, not missing a beat. “My college offers a psychology course. Maybe we could— oof!” 

Kenny acts out of instinct. He practically jumps into Kyle’s arms and crashes their mouths together. It’s a sloppy kiss at first, but Kenny has no time to think how to make it better than Kyle moves his head and deepens it, switching Kenny’s brain off for good. 


	17. Epilogue

The phone rings a couple of seconds after Kenny’s eyes flutter open, as if he’d woken up for the sole purpose of taking that call. It’s three in the morning and no one in their right mind would call him at such an unholy hour unless it was an emergency. 

Still, it’s too early to get out from the warm embrace of his sheets and he’s too content with his life to ruin that feeling of peace with an emergency call. It’s selfish, but Kenny believes that at least today he has the right to be selfish. A nice anniversary date with his boyfriend, kissing, cuddling and so much more… He wants to sleep. 

The telephone keeps ringing. A dim sound, suffocated by the wall standing between the living room and the bedroom. In the dark and otherwise silent house, the rustling of the sheets caused by Kyle tossing and turning in his sleep is almost deafening. 

Kyle mumbles against the pillow. “Kenny.”

Kenny snorts, pulls himself up in a sitting position to check on him and sees that Kyle’s eyes are tightly shut. Even in slumber, his jaw is clenched. He’s facing his dreams with a tense expression that does nothing to hide his determination. Kenny can’t stop staring at the line of Kyle’s neck that disappears just before his collarbone. Kyle is always fighting. Whether in his dreams, his nightmares, or life itself, he is a fighter with both his tongue and fists and Kenny both loves and hates that part of him with his whole being. 

He loves it, because it’s an old and familiar part of Kyle, one that has always made him glow with fire and passion. He hates it, because Kyle deserves some peace of mind sometimes and needs to stop over-analyzing things when there’s nothing to question. 

The ringing finally stops and when it doesn’t start again, Kenny is more than happy to sweep the idea of an emergency under the rug. He leans down to press a light kiss on Kyle’s cheek before he curls up in bed. His forehead brushes against Kyle’s shoulder blades and the contact calms his heart. Weird. He hadn’t been aware of how fast his heart has been racing until he pressed his body against Kyle’s again. 

“Kenny, seriously, you have class tomorrow. Go back to sleep.” 

Kyle’s whisper catches Kenny completely off-guard. “You’re awake?” 

Moving his face up, Kenny’s nose trails a path on the other’s back. It sends shivers down Kyle’s spine and Kenny smirks against his skin. 

“Well, I would much rather not be, but you’re restless.” Kyle turns around and Kenny finds himself staring into green irises. “What time is it?” 

Kenny does not check the alarm clock on his bedside table and slides his arms around Kyle’s waist instead. Closing his eyes, he leans into Kyle’s touch as the redhead moves his fingers to brush a strand of blond hair away from his face.

Seeing that Kenny has no intention to answer, Kyle prods: “Why are you awake?”

“The phone rang.” Kenny opens his eyes again and he’s surprised to see Kyle’s eyebrows furrow in question. “Didn’t you hear the phone?” 

Kyle shakes his head. “Kenny, we don’t have a landline yet. And we haven’t turned our cell phones on since yesterday, remember?” 

“Oh.”

That’s true. They just moved in that apartment and they still didn’t have a phone line because the company responsible for it didn’t give a damn about them. How could he forget about all the hours Kyle spent complaining about it? And Kyle complained about it because Sheila Broflovski was pressuring him about it. No way could she live without a dependable means of communication with her son, cell phones not living up to her standards since Kyle and Kenny could switch them off and ignore her forever. 

Yeah, he might have dreamt it then…

“But-!” 

Except he could swear he’d been awake when he heard it. 

It’s Kenny’s turn to frown. What if it had been the neighbors’? Still the sound is so clear in his mind that he wonders if he has finally lost it. 

Kyle brushes another strand of hair away from Kenny’s forehead and Kenny sighs. “Did you have a nightmare?” The concern in his voice warms Kenny’s heart. 

“No.” 

He’s sincere. The last time he had a nightmare was more than a year ago. It’d consisted of a car and his hands wrapped around a steering wheel. Now there is nothing of the sort, his curse being nothing more than a memory now. There is no need to relive his deaths anymore. His mind is finally at peace and now grants him the dreams he has never dared to hope for. There is a stubborn, fiery and constant presence in Kenny’s fantasy world and that’s all he wants to see at night. 

“No,” Kenny repeats, feeling suddenly on edge. He doesn’t remember dreaming of Kyle. A sense of foreboding presses his chest as he suddenly recalls the echo of a phone ringing –his old ringtone bores holes into his mind eye. His mouth goes suddenly dry. Heart sent into overdrive by the memory of the police officer telling him they needed him to identify a body. 

“Come on, it was just a nightmare.” Kyle’s reassuring tone calms him down again. The blond takes a deep breath and snuggles into Kyle’s embrace. “Just go back to sleep.”

And before long, Kenny does. 

* * *

The next morning, they both need to go to class. 

Kyle frets in the kitchen, gulps down his coffee and swears when some of it spills and stains his hoodie. _Kenny’s_ hoodie, to be honest. Kenny tells him it doesn’t matter, grabs him by the front of the collar and shuts him up with a fiery kiss before Kyle has a chance to over-dramatize things. 

“Greasy pizza night?”

For a moment Kyle doesn’t seem to remember how breathing properly works and Kenny is extremely proud of himself for that. 

“Err… yeah…pizza night sounds good.” 

Kyle presses his lips on Kenny’s cheek and lingers there but Kenny reminds him he’s late and Kyle swears again. He’s out the door in an instant. Kenny, on the other hand, takes his sweet time stuffing his college bag with protein bars before he decides to head out as well. 

His phone rings just as his hand finds the doorknob. The anxiety he feels once he reads the caller ID is unfounded and absolutely ridiculous. Stan’s smiling picture flickering on the screen is not promising anything bad but an alarmed question slips through his lips the moment he sweeps his index across the screen to answer the call all the same.

“Did something happen?”

“Jeez, Kenny,” Stan says from the other side. “Am I not allowed to call my friends just to say hello?” 

Fair enough. Kenny opts to pretend he’d been joking. 

“You promised you wouldn’t call us anymore after that one time…so I figured…” 

Stan’s displeased groan rings loudly right into his ear and Kenny feels the smirk crawl across his lips and stay there. 

“Don’t remind me,” Stan says. “Those first three months of your relationship were a fucking nightmare, dude. I am so glad that at least now I can call you and _know_ I’m not interrupting anything.” A pause. “...I’m not interrupting anything, _am I_???” 

At Stan’s terrified tone of voice, Kenny can’t help snorting. It’s a sharp outtake of air that quickly turns into a laughing fit. There’s nothing to be afraid of, he reasons. It’s just Stan being Stan. 

“You’re an asshole.”

“And a very happy one at that.” Stan groans again. “So what’s up?” Kenny asks when the laughter subsides. 

“Tricia asked me to call you,” Stan says, straight to the point. “She wondered if you were coming to her baby brother’s baptism.”

Oh. 

Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Kenny throws a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall and says, “I didn’t receive an invitation. Can we talk about it later, Stan, I-!”

“Kenny,” Stan cuts him off. “We both know you did, even if it wasn’t an official one with ribbons and confetti. Will you finally cut this crap? It’s been more than a year. The Tuckers don’t even know you were dating Craig –except for Tricia- and they sure don’t account you for his death.” 

Oh, boy, did Kenny regret ever telling Stan the whole story… Stan had been shocked at first, sure, and it took him a while to let the knowledge of Kenny’s many deaths sink in. Be that as it may, Kenny’s still convinced Stan’s pretending to be okay with it, justifying Kenny’s breakdown and related behavior with Craig and Kenny’s short-lived love story rather than opening his eyes to the supernatural. Which would have been more understandable if not for the fact they lived in South Park and had their own share of whimsical adventures… 

“I don’t understand why you care so much, Stan. You’ve never told me you were close with the Tuckers’.”

“It’s just a baptism. Tricia hasn’t stop busting my balls with it and Kyle promised his mother he’d be there.”

“Kyle did what?”

“I know he hasn’t told you yet, but it’s this Saturday and Tricia keeps asking if you’re coming with him.”

Kenny bounces his shoulder so he can better balance his college bag better on his back. He doesn’t understand why Kyle hasn’t told him he’s going, but then again he probably lied to shut Sheila up. 

“I really need to go to class, Stan.”

“Tricia would be happy if you came.” 

“Stan.”

“She likes you a lot... do it for her at least. You were the last one to date her brother so she considers you-”

“Don’t say part of the family.”

“…part of the family.” Stan ends his sentence and Kenny rubs his palm against his eyes. 

“Why are you with her on this?” Kenny asks, letting his frustration show in the cadence of his words. Nevertheless Stan is so used to Kyle employing that same kind of tone with him he doesn’t dignify him with an actual response. Kenny can even sense him shrug and roll his eyes skywards. He waits for a couple of seconds and when Stan doesn’t seem like he’s going to talk anytime soon, Kenny fills the awkward silence himself. “I don’t even understand why they want to baptize him. They’ve never been particularly religious.”

“Don’t ask me,” Stan answers. “Maybe losing a child made them believe in the afterlife and stuff. Seriously, Ken, I don’t give a fuck about them, but I’m worried about you. You’ve been avoiding them for a while.”

And of course, Kenny is furious with himself for not being able to conceal it better. If Stan noticed, then the whole of South Park knows about Kenny McCormick running away from the Tuckers’ as soon as they so much as cross paths. He had been fine before, but since Sheila told them of Laura Tucker’s pregnancy, Kenny became restless. There was something in such a trivial occurrence that chilled his bones. That was why, whenever Kyle and he drove back to South Park for those now traditional family gatherings, Kenny had tried his best to avoid Trisha and her parents. Kyle blamed Kenny’s behavior on lingering feelings of regret and assured him that no one hated him. Kenny didn’t find it in himself to correct him. It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears. 

But now… 

Now that the baby was born and big enough to be baptized, Kenny can’t reasonably avoid them any longer. 

“I am just afraid, Stan.” The confession takes them both by surprise. 

“Afraid of what?”

That’s the question Kenny would have loved to have an answer to. 

“I don’t want to see the baby, that’s all.” 

Stan’s snort is justified. “The whole thing is going to last half an hour at most, you won’t even have a proper glimpse of the baby. After that we can hang out or something. Let’s go to Casa Bonita. It’s been awhile…”

Kenny finds his resolve breaking. “I don’t have to talk to Trisha, do I? I...don’t really want to hear about Craig and stuff.”

“I’ll make sure you won’t.”

And with that Kenny finally agrees to go. 

* * *

To say Kyle is surprised by Kenny’s sudden change of heart would be a huge understatement. Nevertheless, he agrees to change plans for the weekend –which just proved Kenny that Kyle has been lying to his mother and had no intention to drive back to South Park- and cancels a reservation on a restaurant he meant to take Kenny on Saturday night. 

“And then you say you’re not a romantic.”

“Cut that tone, Kenny. A… a friend told me the quality of the food is great.” 

“Ha… sure, the quality of the food.”

“Will you stop grinning?”

“Would you have bought me a gift too? Would it have been flowers or sexy lingerie? FYI, I would much prefer the latter.”

“Uh huh, what color?”

“Surprise me.”

Kyle’s burst of laughter warms Kenny’s heart. The feeling of joy that overwhelms him stays by his side throughout the ride to South Park. 

* * *

It’s a nice Saturday morning and everybody is gathered at the church. Kenny overhears people gossiping about the sudden religiosity of the Tuckers’ and he’s confused when he suddenly catches his surname being said out loud twice. Apparently even the McCormicks became faithful devotees out of the blue, after jumping from one cult to another for the free booze. People just like to talk and connect things that have nothing to do with each other, but Kenny locks the new information in his heart and feels restless again. 

He takes Kyle’s hand and follows the Marshes to the first row. All chatter quiets down when the priest comes in. In that moment, Laura and Thomas solemnly step towards him and Kenny unconsciously stretches his neck to give the baby a good look over. 

The baby’s apathetic face as he balls his little fists up in the safety of his mother’s embrace would have been hilarious, if it weren’t for just a tiny little detail. There’s a knot in Kenny’s throat when their gazes meet. Despite them being a different color from Craig’s eyes, Kenny would have recognized that characteristic spark in those chestnut irises anywhere. The baby gives no sign of being remotely interested in his presence but Kenny knows, he _finally knows_ where Craig’s soul went. The answer to all of his questions seems angry at the world for being taken to church and Kenny sinks in his seat and clutches Kyle’s hand even tighter. 

So, once again he has identified Craig’s body. 

The baby creases his eyebrows at the priest stretching his arms to take him away from Laura’s grasp. He pouts and opens his mouth, ready to scream, but then thinks better of it and doesn’t seem to care about what’s going on anymore. Kenny stifles a snort at the whole ordeal. 

“Oh, so _now_ I get the Red Racer comment,” Kenny mutters under his breath, earning a questioning look from Kyle sitting right next to him. “What a brat.” 

“Who’s a brat?”

Kenny lifts his head towards Kyle. He looks so lost and cute that Kenny would ravish him with kisses right then and there. However, this is neither the time nor the place for it, so he shifts in his seat and in a spur of momentary desire, raises their intertwined hands and pressed his lips on Kyle’s knuckles. Kyle’s confusion grows a notch and it’s clear in the way his eyebrows furrow. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Kenny reassures him and Kyle sighs in defeat. 

Kenny reverts his attention back to Craig’s- no, to the baby’s displeased face. He’s not happy at all and the priest looks taken aback for a moment, pausing for a moment as if startled. Laura leans down to whisper soothing words at him –something anyone would have expected her to do to the baby and not at the priest himself. Thomas rolls his eyes to the ceiling, obviously irritated that the whole ceremony is taking longer than planned. Tricia stands a couple of feet away, slightly bouncing her head to the rhythm coming from her wireless earphones. 

His eyes are drawn to the baby again. He imagines the creature living inside him and the now explicable fear slowly turns into frustration, which is immediately replaced by sheer anger. As if sensing his sudden change of mood, Kyle gives his fingers a reassuring squeeze but it’s too late. Kenny has grown determined. 

_I will get that thing out of you,_ he thinks. _I will try to find a way to defeat that thing and if I can’t, then I’ll just have to keep on trying._

_...You won’t be alone in this, not like I was._

“I think I know where I want to work after I get my degree,” Kenny whispers, leaning closer to Kyle’s ear. 

“So you are finally determined to study?” The teasing smile sends Kenny’s eyes rolling upwards in the same way Kyle does when Kenny is being flirty without a reason. Kyle’s face softens. 

“I’ll be South Park’s school counselor,” Kenny says. 

“The kids will love you.”

“Now, don’t be jealous when the teachers also love me. I am just that sexy.”

“That you are.”

Kenny is at a loss for words for a moment. 

“You surprise me every time.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Guys, this is a church,” Cartman says, leaning forwards from the row behind them. “Don’t sin right in front of God’s eyes.”

“Will you shut up-!” Kyle almost cracks his neck in his hast to turn to face Cartman head on. 

“Guys, seriously.” Stan groans and pinches his nose. Trisha takes a single earphone out of her ear and arches an eyebrow at them.

“How long is this gonna take?” Randy Marsh’s voice rises above Stuart and Gerard’s quiet laughing. People mumble in agreement. 

“There’s a football game at eleven.” Somebody else says. The priest rolls his eyes. Laura wants silence. The baby doesn’t give a damn. 

Kenny feels a smile grow across his lips.

“South Park will never change,” Shelley says. “I hate this town.”

“I think it won’t be bad living here this time around,” Kenny says, squeezing Kyle’s hand. “Especially if you’re here with me.”

“You’re so gay, guys, seriously,” Cartman groans behind them. Kyle pays him no heed. 

He just stares into Kenny’s eyes, smiling. Kenny’s heart beats fast. He loves this man with all his being and he means it, with him by his side, Kenny will manage to do great things. 

By the time the priest decides to keep going with the baptism, the baby has fallen asleep. The curse doesn’t seem to be troubling him all that much and Kenny once again swears to help him out with this. 

He’s not alone. He has people who love him, just as Kenny always did. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the end has come and, oh boy, this was a wild ride from start to finish. There were times I just wanted to put this on hiatus and forget all about it; there were others I was typing and re-typing like a madman the whole day through because there were so many things I wanted to say and no perfect way to convey them. This story would have never seen the light of day if it weren't for your support and love! Thank you for sticking with me through the very end and a special thanks to my friends, who gave me a hand and helped me out with this whenever I doubted my writing skills (despite this being 99% of the time). You know who you are. Without you I would have been lost. <3<3<3


End file.
